Toxic
by PixiePercent
Summary: [TOMIONE; AU] Formerly titled Blasted Mistletoe.
1. PEACE IS FLEETING

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.**

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 **Title:** Acidic (formerly Blasted Mistletoe)

 **Author name:** Tachyphrasia

 **Pairing:** Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger (Tomione)

 **Rating:** M **(** Lemons, violence, etc. _IF YOU ARE BELOW 18, KINDLY DO NOT READ THIS FIC. PLEASE HEED THE RATINGS AND STAY AWAY UNTIL YOU ARE OF AGE. OR TOM WILL SEND THE KNIGHTS OF WALPURGIS AFTER YOU_ **)**

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 **Longer Summary:**

Tom Marvolo Riddle had great plans. All of which he would accomplish.

But then a blasted mistletoe had to go ahead and ruin that, bringing along a bushy-haired pain in its path. He'd blasted the 'blasted' mistletoe into ashes as soon the kiss ended.

Hermione Jean Granger only had one plan: excel at whatever she did. She hated not giving her very best.

And then she got trapped under a charmed, floating piece of Christmas decor with a boy she hated. She ran away as fast as she could from him after their kiss and avoided him as much as she could.

That wasn't the end of it as they circle one another in a web of lies, deceit and fatal attraction.

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 _ **NOTE ABOUT THIS FIC:**_ As this is an AU, I took the liberty of changing some details as we knew it from the books (well, it's a fanfic, after all). For example, I placed Tom Riddle and Cho Chang in the same year as the Golden Trio; Cedric Diggory too, although I still followed the original timeline of his death. Things like that.

Umbridge will be handled differently as well but expect her to be the same bitch she was in the books and movies.

A big whooping thanks to my beta **Kabg01** for helping me weed out errors, weird sentences and inconsistencies. Any remaining mistakes are mine which will be fixed once this fanfic is complete.

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Reviews are like water to a parched throat. I get inspired if you review, lovelies, so please do leave one. Or two; as many as you like. If you didn't like this story, then at least leave something constructive OR nothing at all but not anything mean. Hateful comments go straight to the delete button hell.

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Enjoy ^0^

 **CHAPTER 1:** PEACE IS FLEETING

 _Déjà vu_...it was sunny the last time she saw Tom Riddle slip into Tomes and Scrolls but so much; scorching hot by October's standards. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, too. The difference then was that the ground blew up inches from the tip of her shoes.

And blew up, it did.

The cracks on the paved asphalt slithered across the broken pavement like snakes following their every move. Steam, heat and magma rolled off the fissures and the ground rumbled.

Now she knew why it was that hot.

"Hermione," Harry said.

She was mesmerized; the scene reminded her of a painting in a museum she had visited years ago with her parents. Swashes of orange, red, yellow, black painted the chaos of a war set against the backdrop of an exploding volcano.

Battlefield, the painting was called. And how fittingly dramatic it was.

"Hermione — "

The boy was evil in the way most Slytherins were like Malfoy and his chums but not evil enough to cause destruction in Hogsmeade. Impossible. Plus, Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't just jive.

Yet he had an off-putting quality about him, an air, that she couldn't quite put her finger to.

Or maybe she was just being biased; honestly, she didn't like him that much. He'd been quiet at the start of their studies at Hogwarts but second year came and Riddle stepped out of the shadows and shed his scales. He put on the boy-next-door persona and charmed everyone's pants, skirts and underthings off.

Oh, the stories Parvati and Lavender came home to their dorm with! She'd never be able to unhear them.

The female in her would've probably been taken with him, too, like she had with their former Defense Against the Dark Arts Gilderoy Lockhart, if she hadn't encountered his rude first year self on the Hogwarts Express.

Ignorance was bliss but Hermione Granger hated being ignorant.

"Oh, bloody hell. Let me, Harry." Two hands appeared in front of her and clamped on her arms.

She yelped; Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts, literally, by her best friend Ronald Weasley. He wore a smile that widened into a chortle. "Bloody hell, Hermione. You sure you're awake now?"

"Sorry." Her face flushed red and the color deepened when she noticed people passing by giving them weirded out stares. "It's just, you know…"

"Is it Quidditch?" Luna Lovegood offered. "I know you don't like the sport, Hermione. You don't like flying on brooms, do you?"

"No, just thinking of something." She shook her head. "But that sport should be banned, you know." She grinned. The blonde was way too straightforward for her own good and Hermione had even thought her a wee bit creepy when they first met, though she was thankful that she was friends with someone like Luna.

And a _teeny_ tiny bit guilty for once calling her Loony Lovegood.

"And they let a student play in his first year?" she scoffed. Her eyes flickered to Harry, who rolled his own pair of green ones and exchanged a knowing look with Ron. "How irresponsible."

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny said, grasping her arm. "Let's go get ice cream before you start zoning off on us again."

Hermione shot the redhead a glare which melted under the hot sun re-appearing from behind the clouds.

"Ice cream sounds so good. To Diagon Alley, then." She reached for Ron's hand.

Hot was a mild way to put it. Rivulets of sweat ran down the side of their temples and not only once did the teenagers use the backs of their hands to wipe those off.

"You could cook a stew with all that moisture on your hair, Harry," Luna commented. "The _brynskees_ like drinking human sweat. It's like wine to them, you know." And then she took Hermione's other hand.

"Err, thanks for the heads up, Luna," he said as held his hand to her and the other to Ginny.

Ron made a noise on the back of his throat as he accepted his sister's left hand. "And that's why they called you Loony." He ran his fingers through his red hair, mussing it up. "Fortescue's?"

Luna looked pissed for a moment but it was gone the split-second Hermione squeezed her hand. The bushy-haired Gryffindor tilted her head as she glimpsed one of the few moments the Ravenclaw showed an expression other than that of constant daydreaming.

"You guys ready to apparate?" Harry asked.

"One moment, please." She thwacked Ron on the head with one of her books and Ron turned to scowl at her.

"What did I do?" the redhead complained.

"The usual," Hermione quipped. The corner of Luna's mouth quirked. She hadn't apologized to the girl and made a note to do so before the uncomfortable feeling of Apparation engulfed her.

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"Where's Neville? I thought he was gonna meet us?" Ginny asked. She looked back at the two boys behind them. The wind played with the tendrils of red hair which escaped from her messy ponytail.

"He'll be along soon. At least that's what he said before we left the castle," Ron said. He chose a Butterbeer cone with sprinkles.

How had her group grown from Harry plus Ron plus Hermione into plus Neville, Ginny and Luna, too? She wasn't complaining, though. She loved her friends.

These were the people she got trapped in Hogsmeade with two years ago , the teenagers forced to fight some of Grindelwald's vicious soldiers as Dumbledore himself took on their leader.

She'd trust them with her life. All of them. Especially Harry and Ron.

 _Especially_ Harry and Ron.

Neville arrived just as they sat down to eat and conjured a seat of his own, pushing himself between Ron and Luna. "Sorry I got here late. Snape wanted to talk to me about Slughorn's missing supplies."

"What does the great bat want?" Harry glared at his banana-strawberry split before attacking it with the spoon. "Wait...are you still filching those gillyweeds?"

"No!" Neville blushed. "And it wasn't me; it was the fake Mad-Eye." Hermione offered him a sad smile; Neville was put under the ImperiusCurse by a spy of Grindelwald under Polyjuice Potion. That same smile disappeared when a small, dessert spoon landed on her vanilla ice cream.

She swatted Ron's hand. "You have your own ice cream!"

They bickered for a couple more moments until two Ravenclaws walked past their table.

Cho Chang's head was down and only went up when the waitress approached them as they sat at a table. After that, she took to staring at the table and would only occasionally smile as her friend flailed her hands once in a while at points in their conversation. The girl also smiled at the same waitress moments later when their orders arrived.

"I feel bad for her," Luna mused in her dreamy voice. "She's lost friends since Cedric died. Good thing Marietta remained."

The Triwizard Tournament would've been a roaring success if it wasn't for the fact that a student dropped dead during the last task. Cedric Diggory, a HufflePuff in the year above them and one of Hogwarts' representatives for the competition, was the first casualty of the war since Gellert Grindelwald's re-appearance.

Her best friend Harry made it out of the maze alive. Cedric didn't. When Harry landed on the ground as the portkey deposited him and the boy onto the ground, only one of them had a pulse.

"It's been two years, isn't it? What is she still moping about?" Ron grabbed a spoonful of Ginny's apple pie sundae.

"You don't really forget about things like that easily. I still remember the jet of green light and..." Harry put his spoon down and slouched on his seat.

The past few years had been hard on him; his parents died when he was a baby. Murdered, to be exact.

Although the dark wizard who committed the crime had been dealt with and sent to Nurmengard, a Wizarding prison in Europe, her best friend would never be the same.

Hermione's heart broke. She couldn't imagine life without her parents. Her loving and fierce mother became a dentist due to her Hermione's grandfather's wish but secretly wanted to be a painter; her father, who kept encouraging both of them to do what they want and never apologize for it.

Because of him, her Mum was now taking painting lessons in her spare time away from practice.

She could never have imagined growing up without them.

Shaking her head, she looked over to Cho Chang, whose attention was now on them. She gave them all a smile and a small wave.

And then, so subtle Hermione almost missed it, the pretty Ravenclaw's almond-shaped eyes swept over Harry.

She felt the jolt travel between the two former lovers.

The Gryffindor knew she wasn't the only who did: a small smile played over Luna's lips, Ginny looked down on her sundae and Ron raised an eyebrow at her; she shrugged as Neville scratched the back of his nape.

Some things weren't easily forgotten, after all. And some things weren't supposed to be forgotten such as preparations for the upcoming Christmas hols.

Hermione groaned. It'd be Monday tomorrow.

Being prefect added additional responsibilities on top of her school workload, but she had accepted it without second thoughts. She probably shouldn't have.

Now, she had to talk to the infuriating snake slash demon-boy, no thanks to McGonagall and Slughorn.

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Slughorn must really be off his rocker. The Head of Slytherin agreed to the Transfiguration Professor's idea of pairing him, Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, with a mudblood — not just any mudblood — and a Gryffindor at that; how unfortunate.

 _House unity, my ass._ He'd curse his head of house and Minerva McGonagall as soon as he graduated.

Tom had hated the Granger girl since he first laid eyes on her and her bushy mane. It was on the first train ride to Hogwarts, the magical school which had sent him an acceptance letter by way of owl, and she had rudely interrupted his thoughts when she slid open the door to his carriage.

 _"Have you seen a toad?" The bossy little chit had stood there with hands on her hips. She hadn't even looked at him as she asked the unusual question; she only glanced at him once. Her light brown eyes were busy scanning his compartment and she bent over to check under the seats._

 _"No." And why would there be a toad inside the train?_

 _She straightened up with a sigh. "I see. By the way, my name's Hermione Granger. And you are?"_

 _He stared at her outstretched hand. Tom wanted to slap it away. He didn't but he did not take it either. She'd been looking for a toad under the seats. What if her hands were full of bacteria?_

 _"Tom." He looked back down on his Potions book and twisted away from her, slightly facing the windows._

 _He heard a huff and a "How rude" followed by the sliding of his compartment door close. Finally._

 _Tom Riddle did see a toad but a scrawny, elfin-faced kid with almost-white blond hair slipped it into his robes and snickered with his two friends._

 _But why would he tell her that? Besides, the owner of the toad, who also knocked on his compartment earlier, was just a chubby, little kid with splotchy cheeks. The kid didn't command any attention at all. No one of real consequence._

Seven years later and Hermione Granger remained to be the insufferable, know-it-all he wanted to curse and throw into the Black Lake, hands and ankles bound, mouth covered.

Said insufferable, know-it-all hurried away but not without shooting him a disgusted glance. He was forced to follow the Gryffindor after classes as she settled deeper into the library, into another section. Then she vanished from his sight as if she had performed an Invisibility spell on herself.

His jaw clenched and he pulled out and waited. Most girls would try to keep staring even as they floundered and giggled. Most girls would flirt. And he'd indulged most of them, especially if they're pretty, especially when he was hungry and looked to have fun.

And why wouldn't he? They're for his taking. It's a miracle, a shame, even, that he'd even deign to spend time with them. But he was a male and he had urges. Urges that usually led him and his willing partner into abandoned classrooms, alcoves, broom cupboards and occasionally, the Forbidden Forest.

No matter how unfortunate such urges were at least they were pleasurable. Although last night's adventure led to an embarrassing encounter with a certain caretaker.

But he'd taken care of that. It might take months before Argus Filch could wake up. If he ever woke up. And if there would even be a piece left of him once the Warren girl's parents were done with him.

No one would ever think to look into her mind. Not even Dumbledore. The aging caretaker, after all, had a reputation similar to the memories he fed his last night's lover with. Whispers had filled the school ever since he stepped foot in it. And now, those whispers were starting to blaze fever high. He was pretty sure that the Daily Prophet would get wind of the news shortly. Parents would surely be mutinous.

Hogwarts would finally be rid of the irksome Squib. Finally. Everyone should thank him for saving them all.

Plus, there were far more interesting things to do and consider than brew useless, school-grade potions; much less plan an absurd affair for an equally absurd holiday.

He was still staring into space, half-smirking, when a voice broke him from his reverie.

"Staring into space now, aren't we? Well, have you ever thought of checking yourself into St. Mungo's?"

The nuisance was back. He shot her a dark glare but the girl just raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" The Gryffindor know-it-all even had the gall to perch her hands on her hips. He noticed the thin book in her hands. Must be around fifty pages or less. _20th Century Décor Charms_ , it said on the front cover in sparkly gold and silver text.

Tom scoffed. Whatever would one need a book of decors for? Stupid mudblood. He didn't need such a thing. And what was it with people, magic or non-magic, and holiday-themed stuff with glitter? Was it utterly necessary? If tastelessness was a disease bodies would be littering the country.

"I heard what you said, Granger. I just refuse to listen to your rubbish." He stuffed his books into his messenger bag. Decorations, really. Didn't the Professors have something better for him to do other than the fucking Christmas decors?

He sneered at her livid face. Obviously, when Malfoy pretended to be in continuous pain from the hippogriff's attack, it wasn't only to get off Quidditch but also off his Potions project. Tom couldn't blame the brat at all; better to get a T than spend time with a mudblood. He told her that.

"Yet here you are doing exactly just that," Hermione snapped. "How embarrassing it must be to be seen with me."

"Ah, yes. Poor me. I wonder what my frien — "

"Will you ever shut up, Riddle? And don't pretend to even have friends. Everyone knows you act like you're the bloody Prince of Slytherin. Just keep your thoughts to yourself and let's finish this research. We've got a meeting, remember?"

"This meeting is just a waste of my time. Go ask the elves to put those bloody decorations up. In case you don't know what they are —" He tilted his head at the book she clutched. "Those are poinsettias, mistletoes, Christmas trees, et cetera, et cetera."

"I happen to know a great deal about Christmas decors! I grew up spending Muggle yuletide every single year!"

"Sure you do. But don't go around spreading your festive Muggle virus. We're already sick of you as it is."

"You!"

She stood up and he smirked, slightly tilting his chin up to look at her. The mudblood was so small, so tiny, he could easily crush her under his feet.

"Yes, what about me?" Annoying her was just as easy.

The girl babbled on. "We were put together for this so-called _house unity_." She made air qoutes around the words. "The least you could do is pretend that — "

Her voice grew one decibel higher with every syllable and it hurt his brain. He'd been nursing a headache since last night and right now, he just wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep.

"That what? We're getting along?" Tom snapped.

Or perhaps curse her.

"We have enough time for that in front of the teachers, Granger," he said, as his hand slipped into his pocket and wrapped around his pale yew wand. Last night was his first time to use one of the Unforgivables; he'd use Dark Magic before but never the triumvirate.

He loved the rush of magic obeying his need to maim, hurt and torture. He yearned for the freedom to use it more often.

"The thing is, I don't really like hanging around _mudbloods_ , which we've established before." He itched to throw the _Cruciatus_ at her. Just the thought of it somehow soothed his migraine.

"You are…insufferable." Hermione Granger sent him a glower full of hatred. "You could've died that day in Hogsmeade and nobody in Hogwarts wouldn't have minded. In fact, we'd probably celebrate."

His first thought was _She knew I was there that day?_ And then…his gut twisted. No. Nobody would ever forget Tom Riddle. He'd done a lot of hard work already. Spent time on research and… _experiments._

What he liked about the House of Slytherin were the people and its customs. They mostly kept to themselves and were brought up on traditions that befit a proper Pureblood. But they were people who respected, liked and spent time with him. Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, all of them really.

No. Dying wouldn't do…

He took one look at her smug face and lost it. Tom stood up in a whirl and toppled his chair in the process, wand trained on her. Just a few inches away from her jugular.

"P-put th-that...that a-away..." she stuttered. Her spine straightened. Her eyes darted from his wand to his face and then around their area.

He could not murder her in the library. Must. Not. His jaw and half of his face shook with trying to control his tongue from letting the Killing Curse fly. But perhaps he could maim her... _Just a little,_ he promised himself. A little wouldn't hurt—he almost burst into laughter. Of course it would hurt. Just a little.

"Nobody will hear if we put up a silencing ward, will they?" He leaned closer to her; the tip of his wand now touched her skin and seared the flesh at the point of contact.

Hermione hissed and jumped away, touching the middle of her neck. But before she could run, Tom Marvolo Riddle slashed his wand through the air, caution be damned. She backed away as he went round the table to get to her until her back hit an invisible wall. Her eyes widened and he smirked.

"Nowhere to go, _mudblood?_ " Being a hunter was fun; he loved to see his prey cower.

"You're not gonna get away with this," she spat and pulled out her own wand. "I'll tell them. I'll tell Dumbledore."

He forced his magic to hush. It crackled around him and their warded space; it lashed at her and he pulled it back. But not yet. Not yet.

Tom raised his wand. " _Prae_ — !"

He heard a gasp and his head whipped left and right. It seemed to be coming from one of the bookcases behind him. But no one was there. Huh. It must've been the mudblood. But still…

He took several deep breaths, lowered his wand and glared at her before stowing away his wand. Most of the students were still probably in the Great Hall but with the firecracker his fallen chair made even ghosts in the nearby vicinity would be coming to investigate.

He wasn't up to meeting with Peeves right now.

She wasn't that lenient, though; the mudblood still had her wand trained on him and her eyes drifted from him and to the same bookshelf behind him. The girl shook with fear and rage. He could feel it radiating from her in waves in the form of magic. So potent the emotions were he could almost taste them.

And then she seemed to think better of it and slowly brought her wand hand down. A smug smile crept onto her lips again.

His eyes narrowed.

"I knew it. You were crazy. Not everyone can see it, but I do."

Was she just purposely doing it to annoy him? To get him undone so that he'd be caught in the act? She'd willingly sacrifice herself? How very Gryffindor.

His fists shook but didn't do anything as he heard footsteps. After a few moments, Madame Pince came into view. The librarian's face scrunched as soon as she saw them.

"What's the meaning of this?" She looked from him to the blasted Gryffindor and back. "Mr. Riddle? Ms. Granger?"

"Nothing," the girl said. His eyes snapped to hers. "Tom was quite jumpy today. I don't know why but a small insect seemed to bother him."

"An insect?" Madame Pince fixed the spectacles perched on her nose. "Where?"

"Um, it flew away," Hermione hastily said. "Tom tried to catch it but it got away."

Tom gritted his teeth. How dare she freely use his name as if she had permission. He'd get her. Maybe not now, but soon. That mudblood would rue the day she decided to grace Hogwarts with her filthy presence.

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He stalked straight out of the library after they were reprimanded by the stern librarian. Him, most especially, for causing a ruckus. Him! Madame Pince should've reprimanded the infuriating Gryffindor for bringing her dirty self into the Wizarding World.

Tom was near his dorm in the dungeons when he heard it.

 _As if you didn't have dirty blood in you…_ a voice in the back of his head whispered. _Shut up,_ he hissed at it.

A body nearby jumped. "Riddle? Oh bloody hell, Tom. You startled me." The sound of a belt buckle being fixed was heard and then Draco Malfoy stepped away from an alcove, sweating. He clutched something in his right hand.

"What's that?" Tom motioned to his hand and the boy's grin went wider.

"Oh, nothing. Just something an admirer willingly gave to me."

Tom snapped his fingers and the material flew out of his housemate's hand. Malfoy started to protest but he held his hand up, palm forward, and the blond shut his mouth.

"Whose is this?" He examined the glittery silver lace knickers in his possession. "It's so…festive." He smirked.

Malfoy chuckled. "It's Leandra Rumelt's, fifth year. She slipped it into my bag with a note earlier. We had a _banging_ time last night, you know. Still can't help thinking about it."

He handed the lace back with a smirk. So that was what Malfoy was doing in the dark. "Was she any good?"

"Quite adept at pleasing."

The black-haired Slytherin gave a roguish grin which soon faltered as he remembered words spoken to him earlier.

" _And don't pretend to even have friends. Everyone knows you act like you're the bloody Prince of Slytherin."_

"We're friends, aren't we, Draco?"

"Huh?" The blond's eyebrows rose. He looked perplexed at the change in conversation. "I…I suppose so. Yeah. We do hang out...right?"

Draco Malfoy didn't look too sure about it. The boy rubbed the side of his temple where a few sticky strands of his hair stuck.

" _You could've died that day in Hogsmeade and Hogwarts wouldn't have minded."_

Tom Riddle didn't like uncertainty. In fact, he hated it. He hated hearing the mudblood's voice in his mind even more.

" _In fact, we'd probably celebrate."_

Tom gritted his teeth. "Crucio."

Draco Malfoy fell onto the ground, clutching at his head.

Beautiful. He'd heard about wine getting better as it aged. Using the Unforgivable felt tons more fun the first time he had.

"Riddle, stop! Please!" Tears streamed down the boys face and fell onto the cold, stone floor. He twitched and jerked and pulled at his hair. "Enough!"

He turned his wand away. "Are we friends, Draco?"

"Y-yes." The other Slytherin looked up at him, bloodshot eyes half-shut and twitching. His mouth half-lolled to one side.

"Good." Tom pocketed his robe, snatched the panty and the note from Malfoy. "Make sure no one knows of our little chat."

He walked away and slipped into the Slytherin dorm, in hunt of Leandra the fifth year and more of her holiday-themed underwear.

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 **TITLE CHANGE ALERT:**

After changing from a one-shot to a multi-chapter story, I felt like Blasted Mistletoe didn't fit anymore. Starting second week February, I'll be changing this fic's name to Chemical (comes with a brand-new cover, too).

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	2. TELLTALE

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me. This is just a work of fanfiction.**

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Vitamin Sea! Finally! I've been meaning to get out of town and travel to clear my mind of things and pent-up stress. The resthouse my friends and I stayed at in Real, Quezon was just in front of the beach. When we woke up the next morning, we had a roadside breakfast (between the mountains and the sea) and then had a morning stroll along the beach.

We cooked a seafood galore-themed lunch (grilled squid, grilled blue marlin steak, raw fish salad with cucumber, garlic and ginger strips, grilled stuffed tuna, and of course, rice) and ate those by the Balagbag Falls.

The scenery, food, and company, along with the red wine, made the long yet exhausting trip (it takes 3-4 hours to get there) worthwhile.

We have beaches north and south, east and west here. If you're planning to visit the Philippines, do hit me a PM or even a review (#HowShamelessCanIGet) so I can give you suggestions.

I'm sorry uploading the updated chapters is taking awhile (for both old and new readers). I didn't know that this move and taking on a homebased job while at it could be so taxing. I just didn't want to give exact dates anymore as I'm not so sure when it'll be completely done so I could write and publish chapter 6 onwards.

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 **ABOUT THE TIMELINE:** My dear beta **KABGO1 (** thank you for sitting through the horror called 'my writing'; I owe you **)** __commented that she was slightly confused about the timeline they were in and figured out they were in Tom's time. I wrote (re-written as of January 1, 2018) this with them being in Harry's timeline in mind with some deets (characters, situations, etc.) that were taken from Tom's timeline. But I like to think it's fluid enough to be, well, vice versa. Whichever floats your boat and your imagination, I support it. You're the reader and you get to enjoy what you read however you can and want to.

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 **CHAPTER 2:** TELLTALE

Hermione paced back and forth across her dorm room and ignored her cat Crookshank's meows and chewed on her lower lip, thinking back to the encounter with the dark Slytherin two days ago.

If she wasn't so sure before, she was positive now. Tom Riddle was synonymous to evil. Sure, Draco Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to hex her behind their teachers' backs but it'd just be for laughs.

But Tom?

She felt something different about his aura. Even his magic seemed full of malice. It crackled and revolved around him, like fire and wind intertwined.

Thank Merlin for Madame Pince.

She ceased her pacing and dropped her bum onto her bed. She was in deep. And she knew it.

 _You daft girl! You were almost close!_

Hermione hadn't meant to cross the Slytherin. She was in a foul mood over Ron and Lavender's PDA. And as if it wasn't constant enough, they even had to snog here, there, and everywhere.

And she was also annoyed with Harry. She had told him to throw away that stupid Half-Blood Prince's Potions book. The book's very existence plus how Harry and Ron willingly used it to their advantage grated on her nerves.

Hermione Jean Granger always worked hard to get anything she wants. She hated how brewing Potions came easily to Harry now. It was unfair. She studied hard, took lots of notes and wrote detailed essays that go past the required length and word count. But all her Quidditch Seeker friend needed to do was flip open to the page Professor Slughorn told them to and voila! He'd get an Outstanding.

Nothing about cheating was outstanding. The only kick Hermione got out of the situation was that Tom seemed incensed about Harry's newfound abilities in Potions, too.

And then she had continued antagonizing the evil boy.

Tom did the fastest and most convincing 180 degree she'd ever seen. He turned bashful and shy about being 'jumpy' flawlessly that Madame Pince fussed about insects in the library eating the parchments and books instead. She had half of a mind to tell the librarian that not all insects eat paper and most of the books were magically protected from such travesty.

Huh. What an actor.

Tom Riddle had always been polite— _was_ polite, at least, to her. The professors and other students were bonkers over the boy.

 _Look how perfect he is!_

 _Tom, m'boy! Outstanding, as always!_

He pretended to be this shy yet nice boy that even she was fooled a bit during their first year. Just a teeny tiny bit. Most of the girls were mad for how handsome and intelligent he was and some of the boys respected, envied and wanted to be him.

She was glad Ginny and Luna didn't seem to be affected by the Tom virus. The youngest Weasley _used to_ comment on his 'cuteness'—oh please, she wanted to vomit—but she never heard anything from Luna.

Hermione had her own suspicions about who the girl might be interested in but had no evidence. After all, hadn't she been interested in the same guy a year ago? She'd watch Luna, though, just to make sure.

As for Harry and Ron, being the Gryffindors they were, naturally distrusted any member of the snake house.

The pretentious bugger seamlessly played along to the tune she orchestrated. And he even blushed! Blushed! How had the git managed to do just that? Did he take an acting class? Ate a plate of chili?

Perhaps the guy simply hated being bested. It was always a competition for him. Even in lying. She was sure that that was the only way he hated her ever since they laid eyes on each other. He'd been rude to her at the Hogwarts Express when she politely asked if he saw Trevor, Neville's missing toad, and tried to make small talk.

She had slammed his carriage door on him.

But...when did it exactly start? Second year? Yes; when Draco Malfoy made fun of Ron, she let it slip that someone's father probably just paid to get him into the Slytherin Quidditch team.

 _"Filthy little mudblood..."_ The words had flowed easily from Malfoy's mouth. _He was surrounded by his Quidditch teammates in a sea of green, silver and positively awful; the whole lot of them, really. They all guffawed as if those three words were the funniest thing in the world._

It wasn't. For Little Hermione, the girl with the buck teeth and frizzy hair, that was the game changer.

 _From the corner of her eyes, she saw other students glued to the scene playing out in front of them. Including the quiet and shy black-haired Slytherin sitting by one of the stone arches._

 _Something in her chest throbbed painfully and her hands grew clammy._

 _There was a smirk on his face. It grew wider when their gazes met._

It was the first time she ever saw him do that and it brought chills to her body. He usually avoided glances or nodded timidly.

 _Quiet and shy_ , Hermione scoffed. Tom certainly wasn't the quiet, shy one of their second year anymore. Sixth year Tom Riddle strutted about as if he owned Hogwarts, as if he was king of the centuries old castle.

He said all the right things, smiled at the right times and looked bashful when needed. The slimy snake had everyone wrapped around his finger. Or scaly tail. Not Hermione Granger, though.

Her head ached and she rubbed the top of her head. Another stress-induced migraine.

But was why she worried about the turd? It wasn't as if he was Grindelwald. She should watch her mouth often, that's what she ought to do. And her temper. She's slowly becoming Harry in that respect.

It was useless to lose sleep and appetite over a bully. He may have magic but Tom Riddle wasn't so different from the bullies in the muggle world.

 _That's all he is, Hermione; a bully. Nothing more. Besides, you've done your fair share of bullying. You goaded him; that doesn't make you any better..._ Hermione's thoughts followed her into the loo.

 _And over what? Ron and Lavender snogging their faces off?_ She rolled her eyes. The jealousy was so last year. But the PDA continued on to the current one.

Shower was wonderful. The water coming from the overhead spout was just the right amount of warmth leaning towards the heated side. She scratched her nape with the pads of her fingers to remove the remaining bubbles of shampoo. As the creamy, sweet coconut-scented lather rushed down her body along with what remained of the bubbles from the soap she used, she felt something sticky gliding down her leg.

Soap, shampoo and blood pooled on the tiles and emptied into the drainage.

Great. Just great. That would explain the increased irritation over the past few days. Particularly last night.

She had slammed the door to the loo on her roommates after they joked about how compatible she and Draco Malfoy—of all the boys in their school, they picked the spoiled brat?!

 _"What a shame. You two could've been perfect."_

 _She spluttered at Lavender. "Excuse me?"_

 _"What?" Lavender asked. She exchanged knowing grins with Ginny and Parvati. "It's the perfect romance novel, wouldn't you think? Enemies turned lovers. Oh, that is so romantic!" The girl fake fainted, complete with an arm on her eyes._

 _"Oh, shut up!" Hermione sprung from the bed as if prodded on the back with a pointed stick._

 _"Listen to me, Hermit," the girl continued. Hermione winced at the nickname. "He may be an arse 99% of the time but he can be quite intelligent when he wants to. Have you noticed how adept he is at potions? Plus, he's handsome and you're..." Lavender looked down and up at her._

 _"I'm what?" She tapped her foot impatiently. Maybe a cursing is in order._

 _"You're naturally pretty but you could be prettier if only you, you know, dress up and put on makeup. Fix that hair. Remember the Yule Ball?"_

 _Parvati and Ginny nodded._

 _"If I were a boy I'd have wrestled Viktor Krum for your hand," Lavender said with a demonstration of her closed fists._

 _Hermione blushed. Well, it wasn't that bad. She did enjoy acting like a girl once in a while. "I suppose I could do that now and then -"_

 _"Aha!" Parvati pointed at her. She jumped because she thought the girl would stun her. "So, you're okay with dressing up now and then for Draco Malfoy." Her friend made air quotes and wagged her eyebrows._

 _"Yeah. And I know he won't mind. In fact, you've rendered him speechless that night." Lavender sighed dreamily. "I think most of Hogwarts was."_

 _Hermione couldn't help but preen over the compliment. She was used to being made fun of her hair and teeth, not this. Pretty was not a word commonly used to refer to her._

 _But still, it was Malfoy they were talking about._

 _"I'll have you know that if I indeed dress up and put on makeup that it'll be for me, not for some boy. Especially that evil, evil -" The Gryffindor prefect finished the rest of her sentence with a scream._

 _The three fell into laughter._

 _"Oh, right. Come on, you. Laugh. This is so funny, isn't it?"_

 _"It is!" Ginny held her stomach. "You should've seen your face, 'Mione!"_

 _"Yeah," Parvati chimed in. She had tears in her eyes. "We were just messing with you, girl. But your face!" More giggles. "We should've borrowed Colin's camera!"_

The mixed emotions practically drained her energy.

And patience.

After rinsing herself completely, Hermione wiped herself dry and put on a sanitary pad. Some of the people she knew preferred tampons but it felt weird when she tried it on.

She went to bed and ignored the pile of books, mostly novels, on the bedside table. She dried her hair and patted her bed; her cat immediately leapt onto it and burrowed under the blankets.

"Don't dare sleep on my stomach or I'll curse you; you're not as light as you were when you were small," Hermione told the feline, before slipping inside the sheets as well.

She fell asleep as soon as her eyes closed, her arm tucked around her half-Kneazle pet.

.

.

.

The door opened half an hour later and in came Ginny giggling with Parvati and Lavender. Their laughter ceased when they saw their dormmate.

"Shh, the dragon's sleeping," Parvati whispered.

Lavender grinned. "Be careful, Parvati. She might wake up and eat you."

"Oi, you two!" Ginny scowled. She then pointed at each girl and then put her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Parvati, Lavender, leave the dragon alone," she said, in perfect imitation of her sleeping friend.

The three looked at each other, a beat, and then the redhead's stern face cracked. They fell against each other, laughing.

"Hermione would so kill us if she knew we called her a dragon," Ginny gasped, still doubled over on her stomach.

"I know!" Lavender slapped her arm. Her eyes teared up with mirth. "But I wonder what has gotten her so grouchy. Was being teased about Malfoy...that bad?"

Parvati crossed her arms as Ginny sat down on the floor, cross-legged. "Judging by that look on your face, you've just answered your question. Congratulations, Lavender."

The brunette snorted. "Too bad he's a bully. He'd be a perfect gentleman. That face, those smirking lips—"

"P.M.S.," Ginny blurted out.

"Huh?" Parvati and Lavender chorused.

"P-M-S. I forgot what each initial meant but it's how muggles refer to the symptoms—wait, I think the S meant symptom—women get before their monthly period."

"I think it meant syndrome," Parvati mused. "Hermione also told me all about it."

"Whatever." Ginny cracked her knuckles. "I'm just worried about her. She seems so intense during days like these. And she's been quiet."

"I don't know. Most girls become pretty irritable when it's their turn. Hormones, you know."

Parvati smirked at Lavender. "Reminds me, Miss Obvious, of your temper tantrum last month when Ron forgot your monthsarry."

A pillow smacked onto her face.

The fight began. The girls danced around the room as they tried to hit each other while avoiding getting hit in return; laughter, not-so-ladylike insults and feathers floated in the air.

Then Hermione tossed and turned in her sleep, mumbling, and they stopped. The three girls stuffed the feathers back into their pillows.

Ginny went to bed with a grin but it soon faded when she remembered the night she stumbled on Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger in the library.

The boy had raised his wand at her friend. He'd been talking as the two faced each other; Hermione said something, too, but she didn't hear her either.

If she hadn't grown up in the Wizarding World and without Bill Weasley the Cursebreaker for a brother, she wouldn't have known how to tell if there was a ward in the area.

He had warded the space where he and Hermione were. That, aside from the dark look on his face, chilled Ginny's blood. And to think she slightly fancied him before...she shook her head.

She considered telling Luna as the Ravenclaw often offered smashing advice and seemed to know exactly what to do, but she, Ginevra Weasley, needed something to take her mind off Harry and would tell her but not now.

She remembered the look he shared with Cho Chang at Fortescue's. It was short and faint but loaded. Sweet and full of longing.

Merlin, she had fancied him for years but had never looked at her like that; lucky Cho Chang. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut.

Tom Riddle, then. One of these days, she'd gather enough evidence against him. She'd been at the unfortunate end of his wand once, back in her first year. She wouldn't let him get to any of her friends.

.


	3. A SNAKE AND HIS SCALES

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me. This is just a work of fanfiction.**

I have a newfound addiction to Camila Cabello's songs. Go buy her new album. You won't regret it! I was actually miffed _OMG_ , _Crying in the Club_ and _I Have Questions_ weren't included but the songs that actually made the cut were equally damn good.

 **P.S.** Dedicated to Christinabeal10, for reminding me to update. I owe her and you people that. I really am sorry (both for not updating and keeping quiet). I'll update as soon as I'm able to.

 **P.P.S.** I changed its title to 'Acidic' and even, um, _PLEASE DON'T BE MAD PEOPLE!_ made a companion novella titled 'Chemical.' Ohmigosh. I'm dead.

 **CHAPTER 3:** A SNAKE AND HIS SCALES

Tom smiled at his cereal as the jar of milk poured its contents into the bowl. Perks of magic, he smirked as the jar finished and promptly floated back to stand still on the table.

Last night had been — Draco Malfoy was right — _banging_. The Rumelt girl's eyes widened in delight when he approached and did every possible thing in order to please him.

And please him she did. He almost forgot his earlier altercation with the mudblood as he remembered Leandra Rumelt kneeling in front of him; she stripped him of his trousers and used her delightfully wicked mouth to —

He noticed someone glaring back at him and he scanned the Great Hall until his eyes landed on the Gryffindor table.

Ginny Weasley was looking at him with pure loathing. And then she turned her lofty blood traitor nose from him and sat at her house table with her friends and housemates.

What was it? His eyes ventured from the redhead to the bushy-haired brunette with distaste. Had the mudblood witch gone tattling about him to her friends? His gaze swept across the rest and his brows furrowed.

Tom put down his spoon and pushed his cereal bowl away. Her pets Potter and the Weasley boy didn't seem to be glowering at him. If anything, the two buffoons were laughing together at something probably pointless and inconsequential. Just like the rest of Hogwarts.

He gritted his teeth. So what was it, then? Was it...his spine straightened and the utensils in his vicinity vibrated and hovered milimeters above the table. He saw Malfoy and Zabini glance at him with terror.

Good. People should be terrified of Tom Riddle. Not glaring at him like some foul piece of dirt stuck under the soles of their shoes.

If Ginny Weasley wanted a repeat of what happened in her first year, she would get it.

The dark-haired Slytherin stood as the owls swept in to deliver their mails and packages. A thick, rolled up newspaper landed with a thud in front of Nott and he leaned down.

"May I borrow this?"

The boy nodded and shrank away from him. Terrified. Good.

The man on the front page looked the worse for tear but he was still smiling. Still glorious in his capture. He peered up at Tom inside his dank, dark room with Dementors floating in the background under the words _Exclusive Interview with Dark Wizard Grindelwald._

Tom laughed. Oh, how amusing. Who was Rita Skeeter and how much courage did it take her to interview the dark wizard that had terrorized the Wizarding World for most of his life?

He walked for the two double doors, newspaper tucked in his arms and grin on his face. He greedily flicked towards page five, where several moving pictures of Grindelwald from his late teens to his Nurmengard captivity shared a spread of two pages with the text.

A snippet caught his eye.

 _ **RITA:**_ _A trusted source told me that you and Dumbledore were good friends?_

 _ **GRINDELWALD:**_ _[chuckles]_ __ _In a way, yes. We were close._

 _ **RITA:**_ _Like brothers?_

 _ **GRINDELWALD:**_ _Brothers? Hmm...why don't you ask him?_

Huh. So Dumbledore, for all his hoity-toity about kidness, used to be chums with one of history's darkest wizards? Figures. He always knew Albus Dumbledore couldn't be trusted.

When he first laid eyes on Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, eleven-year-old him initially thought _Why is he wearing an outrageous outfit?_ and then, _It doesn't matter_ ; finally, _finally_ , he was free. He would be saved from the atrocious orphanage and its equally atrocious orphans.

The very same orphans who told him he was nothing without his circus freak of a mother. That maybe she chose death rather than have him.

That maybe his father was a drunkard or a criminal. Maybe his father was Slenderman, which explains his weirdness.

As if they had a mama. As if they had a father. As if they weren't all missing parents.

 _"B is for bastard Tom, his mama didn't want him, his papa was a drunkard, his mother a circus freak..."_ the other children chanted and sang like a crude choir. He didn't want to be the child of a circus freak. He didn't want to be Slenderman's son nor that of a drunkard's. He just wanted his mama and his papa.

They could be plain, poor and boring. As long as he could be with them.

But no. He couldn't be with them. He couldn't even be away from Wool's; he had to return every summer and if he didn't grovel enough and did extra work for the professors, helping them arrange supplies, clean stockrooms and cauldrons and whatnot, he wouldn't be able to ask them to let him stay at the castle every Christmas break.

Food was scarce at the orphanage. Safety was also almost non-existent.

Little Tom had cried everyday to sleep as the taunting gave way to physical hurt. They would hit him whenever their matron Mrs. Cole and the orphanage staff, weren't looking. Billy Stubbs, most especially. That right hook of his...those fists...

But he got him, didn't he?

Tom realized he was different from everyone else when his hurt and his tears gave way to rage. He'd had enough of crying at night. Enough of hiding in his room. Enough of taking the blows, spit and scratches as if there was no other choice.

One day, filled with so much hatred it choked him, he wished for something bad to happen to Billy's rabbit. Billy had been telling the others in the dining room, as if he wasn't there, that Tom should join the circus.

 _The others laughed. A little girl and a boy sitting not far from him looked at him with pity. He didn't want pity. He wanted them to do something. He wanted them to help him._

 _They didn't do anything save for averting their eyes._

 _"Maybe the clowns missed you, eh, Tom? Billy snickered. His pet rabbit made to hop off the table but he grabbed it with two fat hands by the neck. The animal's eyes bulged. "Since your mum ran away, you could be a substitute. Can you even dance, Tom?"_

 _He kept on eating his porridge. No, he couldn't dance. And he didn't want to. The spoon shook as he raised it to his lips._

 _"But if they get tired of you, they would just feed you to the lions." The bully roared and the other children joined. Tom covered his ears and turned to them. He saw the poor animal. Then he looked at the girl and the boy, who scowled at Billy._

 _Maybe they could be friends. Maybe he could convince them to stand up to Billy._

 _He saw them leave, their soup half-eaten. Tom wanted to follow them but maybe later. Billy and his gang would just tease him for being a coward._

 _He would wait. He could say something to Mrs. Cole but the last time he did, Billy was so furious Tom didn't leave his room for more than a month until he was coaxed out of it by a doctor._

 _The other children were camped outside his room when he came out of the office._

 _"Tom," Billy sang. He stiffened but the boy paid him no attention. He was busy throwing the rabbit back and forth with his friends. "They will lock you in the madhouse, won't they? That's what the doctor's here for."_

 _"No." He didn't almost hear himself answer. He winced; answering back usually resulted in a black eye._

 _Thankfully, they were still playing with the rabbit. Poor rabbit. If the animal had facial expressions similar to that of a human's, Tom was sure it would be green from wanting to puke, just like in the cartoons._

 _"Oh, they will. That's what happened to Donald. They locked Donald up."_

 _He didn't know who Donald was. He didn't want to be locked up. Instead of answering, he went straight to his room and slammed the door shut._

 _Billy would be angry but he didn't care. It felt good and made him smile a little. His smile grew wider when he saw the book peeking from under his pillow. He had snuck the martial arts book from the local library they visited three days ago._

 _Tom had been practicing. He'd been learning. The proper way to land a jab, the weakest parts of a person's body, how to put enough enery and force into your knuckles, those kinds of things. One thing Billy and his cronies cannot beat him at was intelligence. He was smart; they were not._

Such idiosyncrasies...he grinned, amused at his boyhood antics. He got them back. All of them. Billy Stubbs. The stupid muggle boy's friends. The orphanage staff. Even Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson because they chose to look away.

Turned out, he didn't need the book on karate that much. He was much powerful than that.

Fighting back was the way he survived. But he didn't want to just survive. He wanted to be the most powerful so nobody could ever hurt him again.

He didn't need his parents. Especially if they were plain, poor and boring.

What he needed was knowledge, power and influence. If he had all three, people would never hurt him again. They would learn to fear him. They would worship him.

No. He definitely didn't need his parents.

Tom slipped into an empty broom cupboard and started reading the interview from the top.


	4. SCANDALS AND HEADACHES

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.**

* * *

 **A reviewer pointed out** that it was a Hogsmeade weekend and yet, the gang went to Diagon Alley for ice cream! I chuckled at my stupidity; apparently, it has no bounds. But I'll leave that error there until I finish typing _THE END._ Or else all I'll do is re-write and re-write without finishing anything. Thank you so much! I am all for comments like these as constructive criticism helps me improve.

~^0^~

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4:** SCANDALS AND HEADACHES

* * *

Hermione sighed as Professor McGonagall told her and her fellow prefects to come see their Headmaster at the end of their classes for a quick meeting. She rubbed her temples as murmurs broke out and she caught snippets of the conversation around her.

"Filch has done it again, hasn't he? Poor Myrtle. She seems like a nice girl."

Hermione scowled at the voice. None of them had really cared about Myrtle Warren. She was loud, yes, and obnoxious at times, but they hadn't stepped in whenever someone made fun of the girl. Well, except Luna and sometimes, her and Ginny. Even Harry, Ron and surprisingly, Riddle, had helped.

'Help' was much too nice a word. In all likelihood, he just needed his good boy shield and paying equal attention to both the bullies and the bullied earns points in their books. _Slytherins and their opportunist tendencies..._

Luna Lovegood and Myrtle were somehow similar in that respect. Both from Ravenclaw, both made fun of. The only difference was that the quirky blonde had friends while Myrtle had none. She could tell that the girl wanted to sit with them at their table like Luna did.

Why hadn't she invited Myrtle over? She could've waved and beckoned at the girl. Not just smiled. Fat chance a smile would do a lot of good in the world.

Grindelwald had smiled in his interview with Rita Skeeter from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Hermione shivered and her eyes slowly drank in the classroom. She craned her neck and found Tom Riddle, smiling, as he chatted with his friends at the back of the class.

The git seemed happy about something. Was he happy about Myrtle's disappearance?

 _Figures..._ Hermione scoffed and looked down at her parchment. He was ever a snake. He could pretend to be nice to a bullied girl yet laugh at her expense. Ever the embodiment of his house and its lopsided values.

"Miss Granger?" Her Transfigurations professor and head of house stopped in front of her. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Peachy," she said. "Just feeling stressed, is all," she said. Then smiled. "Just a headache, professor."

A wrinkled hand reached for her and checked her forehead and neck. "You seem to have normal temperature. But would you like to go to Madame Pomfrey, just in case?"

"No need, Professor," she said. "I'll just take Muggle medicine, after this. Must be my hormones. It's...well..." She looked around and found a few eyes watching the exchange with interest. Harry and Ron frowned at her and she shook her head. Turning away from them, Hermione leaned closer to her professor and whispered, "It's that time of the month and it's normal for me to get these headaches."

The knot between Professor McGonagall's eyebrow almost disappeared. "Oh, I see. I myself do get them at times. But still, it'll be better to check with someone. You might have low blood or hormonal imbalance like I did when I was younger."

Hermione nodded. She suspected at much. As soon as she was able to, she'd go consult a Healer at St. Mungo's.

And a Muggle doctor, for second opinion.

She noticed Riddle look her way.

 _Snake._ She gritted her teeth as she prepared to copy McGonagall's scribbles on the charmed blackboard.

.

.

.

.

After the short meeting with Dumbledore, Hermione's migraine had worsened to the point she was practically begging for coffee when they arrived at the Great Hall for dinner.

"I thought you were gonna drink medicine?" Ron quipped. Lavender put three sugar cubes and a teaspoon of cream on a cup of coffee, before leaning over her boyfriend to hand it to Hermione, who sat on Ron's other side.

In spite of her being annoyingly chatty at times, Lavender was a sweet girl and tried everything to win her and Harry's affection and blessing. Hermione closed her eyes as she sniffed the hot drink. Harry had already given his blessing, more like resigned to it, but she could definitely and sincerely give hers by this cup of coffee alone.

"Medicine isn't always the answer, Ron," she replied, before taking a sip of the concoction. "This is wonderful, Lavender. And there were proven Muggle studies that the more you rely on them, the more your body'll get used to—"

"Those and stop producing the necessary anti-bodies to combat newer and deadlier viruses and bacteria which will be immune to such medicines. We get that, Hermione. But you get headaches every month," Harry cut across her, repeating words she said once upon a time, and then sighed. "That to us isn't normal."

"And we heard McGonagall." Ron plucked a piece of cherry from the nearby black forest. "You should go see a—"

"Healer. Okay, okay. I will." She glared at the two bestfriends. "Can you guys please drop it?"

Luna dropped on the space beside her. "They're just worried, Hermione. We all are. What if there's a nargle colony inside your hair?"

Ron choked on his apple juice. Hermione glared at him and Harry; the latter was bent over the table and shaking.

"What happened in the meeting?" Ginny addressed her brother. "Was it about...about Myrtle?"

The freckled boy swallowed before answering. "Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck. "Dumbledore told us that he doesn't believe that Filch did that."

"But there have been rumors for ages, weren't they?" Neville piped in. "Remember Susan Bones?"

"Rumors are just rumors until proven, Neville," Luna mused and then reached for a slice of ham. "Susan herself said it isn't true."

Hermione wanted to hug her...until she remembered the nargle colony comment.

She also didn't believe Filch to be the culprit. It seemed he was more interested in his red-eyed cat than in students.

 _Dumbledore sighed. "I know a lot of students don't like Filch and frankly, he himself makes it hard for them. And I presume you've heard those...less than savoury rumors about him and young teenage girls?"_

 _She nodded; most of the prefects stared at him with wide eyes._

 _"Well," the wizard continued. "Filch may be one thing, but never in history were those rumors proven. In fact, he was somewhat naive but not entirely clueless about those things. He was married once. It may just be those disgruntled students he caught breaking the curfew who spread those awful stories."_

It was so easy; even she wasn't free from hating the old, annoying caretaker who seemed to abhor every student. Plus people had a away of looking down on others for the smallest things: blood, status and looks. Filch, in that respect, failed all three. Plus, he isn't exactly the happiest soul around.

 _"For revenge. Until someone went too far and hexed him out of spite."_

 _"Ten points to Gryffindor." Albus Dumbledore put on a smile and then dropped it as he met the eyes of the prefects and their heads. "Myrtle Warren claimed that he tried to rape her. She was hysterical and begged to be transferred to Beauxbatons. I'm pretty sure that Hogwarts will be swept in scandal soon because of this."_

They were quite for a while. Even though she, Harry, Ron and their friends didn't like the caretaker, they would never dream of hexing him. Scratch that—they'd just dream but never act on it.

But someone else did, though.

 _Their Headmaster broke the silence with a cough. "And I would've believed her, she looked so terrified and I know she would never lie about something like that._

And then Dumbledore proceeded to tell them that there were remnants of dark magic.

Hermione's heart beat wildly. Someone inside Hogwarts was playing with...a certain dark-haired Head Boy came into mind but —

No, she must not point fingers. But most of the time, it was easier to find someone familiar to blame than ponder about the fact that Grindelwald might have cohorts inside their school.

And so Hermione watched Tom Riddle chat and eat with his housemates. She continued to stare and when his eyes snapped to her, the grin on his lips fell. The Gryffindor quickly looked away and turned to Luna.

"How're your Potion classes, Luna?"

"That, Hermione, is what's causing you headaches. Studying. You're cramming too much information into your brain and yet, you still want to worry yourself about the fifth year curriculum?" Ron shoved a plate of glazed duck towards her. "Eat. Or else we'd all get headaches from reliving Slughorn's lectures."

Hermione glowered at each and everyone of them until she noticed Ginny staring behind her. She rose an eyebrow at the redhead who quickly shook her head and focused on her soup.

Hermione sawed off a piece of the duck but she saw the redhead exchange a look with Luna. She also noticed the two look towards the Slytherin table; both girls looked ready to murder.

Her grip on her utensils tightened. It was never a good omen when you feel the spine-tingling chill that mystery novels you've read always talked about.

" _Nobody will hear if we put up a silencing ward, will they?"_

Hermione watched Tom Riddle. There seemed to be nothing ordinary. He sat at his table, calmly eating and chatting with those around him.

But he was as Slytherin as Slytherin got. She'd seen it with her very eyes, experienced it firsthand.

"Is something the matter, Ginny?"

"What?" the girl turned to her. "Nothing. Why do you ask, Hermione? I'm fine and dandy."

If he was on to her friends, she'd never stand back and let him get away with it. Silencing ward or no silencing ward.

.

.

.

.

Reporters stormed Hogwarts two days later and most of the school's populace quickly forgot about the delicious morsel of gossip that was Grindelwald's interview with Rita Skeeter.

Not one Hermione Granger, who underwent gossip herself because of the vile woman.

The Wizarding World had thought of her as a minx-in-training, a vixen in the making, who broke the hearts of both Harry Potter and Viktor Krum thanks to articles from both the Daily Prophet and lifestyle magazine Witch Weekly. But the blasted reporter didn't stop there and had pictures of her embracing her bestfriend in his tent— _to offer moral support! As a bestfriend, mind you!_ —and twisted those into stories that had mouths cackling with malice for weeks.

Yet even with her great disdain for the woman, her attention, too, was caught up in the new furor that had the castle struggling under the weight of its newest problem.

"Sir! Is it true that your caretaker sexually abused a sixth year girl?" A man yelled as Hermione, Tom and their fellow prefects helped their professors hurriedly usher the rest of the student body into their classes. That same man plus quills, parchment and the blinding flashes of cameras followed Albus Dumbledore as he went the other way, towards the Great Hall.

A first year HufflePuff's eyes widened. Hermione sent a stinging jinx the man's way and withered under Minerva McGonagall's stare. The elder witch didn't do anything, though.

"I'll answer your questions, ladies and gentlemen, in the Great Hall. Please do not block the way of our students as their classes are about to start." He'd been released a few days ago from the infirmary and the whole castle, the students, portraits and even the ghosts, wondered what his ailment was.

The Professors remained tight-lipped about it.

Reporters from different newspapers and cameramen flattened themselves against the walls but the scratching of quills on parchment and clicking of shutters didn't stop. In fact, some seemed to be taking pictures of them.

"Oi, you!" Harry covered his face with his robe and turned away from a man who blatantly dropped to one knee to get an angle of him. The flash of the camera blinded Hermione for a few seconds. "This is nuts!"

"Where's Ron?" she asked. Another camera flash and she almost lunged for the man's throat.

"I'm here!" A voice answered to her back. "Oi, you two! Stop chatting like it's a bloody picnic and hurry your asses up!" he said to Ginny and Luna. An incantation flew out of someone's wand and passed by inches from his nose.

Ginny rubbed her palms together and chuckled, pulling herself, Luna and her brother between Harry and Hermione. "He deserves that, don't you think?"

"Bloody brilliant, Ginny!" Ron smirked at the cameraman who covered his face and clawed at it with his hands.

"I agree. Remind me to never annoy you, Ginny Weasley." Harry declared. "Absolutely bloody brilliant."

The redhead flushed. "That I am. You don't have to rub it in, Harry Potter."

"That sounded weird to me," another voice chimed in, a dreamy one. "Are you insinuating something, Ginny?"

Hermione cackled. She leaned closer to the younger redhead. "Rub it _in?_ Wasn't that an innuendo?"

"Hermione Granger!"

Luna laughed; Hermione danced out of the girl's path before her friend could hex her, too. She winked at a very red-faced Ginny.

That was for teasing her about Malfoy.

She then turned to the mass of bodies and groaned. How disorganized. What were the other prefects doing? The Head Boy? Head Girl?

Oh, right. They were just asking their schoolmates to hurry up. Hurry up?! They were supposed to lead the lower years as peacefully and efficiently they can into their classrooms. At any rate, this would turn into a stampede. It already felt as if they were sardines jampacked into their can. Hermione put the tip of her wand against the side of her throat.

" _EVERYBODY STOP!"_

That they did. Those closest to her cowered away and clamped their hands over their ears.

" _Listen to me! This looks very disorganize and pretty soon, we could end up hurting one another. Where are the first years?"_

A few hands rose up in the air.

"Good! Follow Ron Weasley here—"

"Hey! Why me?"

" _Stop asking questions! You're a prefect, do your bloody job! And don't you dare forget to attend your own class, Ronald Weasley!_ "

"YES, MOTHER! MAY I GO NOW, MOTHER?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Grumbling over the chuckles, Ron heatedly asked the first years to follow him if they didn't want to be hexed by his younger sister. The kids scrambled to fall in line behind him.

" _Next: second years?"_ She searched for the nearest prefects to her...Parkinson...nope, the wicked Slytherin would just scare the younger ones...there was a reason Harry called her pug-faced, although it was a gross exaggeration because of the girl's upturned nose, aside from acting like one, too. " _Follow Michael Corner to your first class, please. Now, third years?"_

The crowd slightly thinned and she found it easier to breathe. Even the reporters, cameramen and the Headmaster were gone. She turned back to the student body and her eyes widened as everybody seemed to be watching her, waiting for her instructions.

 _Seriously?_ The lot of them looked like sheep waiting to be herded back to their enclosure.

"I'll take care of them," Tom Riddle said, stepping closer to her, put his own wand by his own throat, but before he could whisper the incantation for the _Sonorus_ charm, he turned to a seventh year pair who wore matching expressions of distate. "Is this okay, Steve, Tria?"

Steven Gantshade and Demetria MacFusty, Head Boy and Head Girl, were the most unlikely pair of leaders the Headmaster could've chosen. But, just like most people with positions, the Ravenclaws didn't take kindly to being usurped of their title.

Even when they didn't deserve it.

"It's okay, Tom." The way Demetria's voice caressed the bugger's name made Hermione gag. "I think Hermione has it under control."

Steven snorted but didn't say anything. He crossed his arms and looked away, jaw clenched.

"Okay...if you say so..." Tom looked unsure but she saw the gleam in the snake's eyes.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tom's back as he led the third years away.

 _Evil, insufferable git..._ "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to intervene in your job."

A job she was doing 'peacefully and efficiently' instead of the heads themselves.

" _Fourth years!"_ Demetria yelled and gave her a glare. " _Go with Pansy Parkinson! Fifth years, follow Zacharias Smith!"_

The Head Boy relegated the sixth years to the her with a sneer and to his fellow seventh years, he said, "You're old enough to find where your classrooms are." Then promptly turned on his heel, Demetria right beside him.

"Look at you, Granger, doling out responsibilities like a queen." Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle sneered at her. "Unfortunately, she doesn't even have a crown."

"But I do have this." Hermione gritted her teeth and pulled her wand out. "Now, what were you saying, Malfoy?"

"Nothing." The spoiled brat gulped.

"Good. Now get out of my face and go to your first class!" she sputtered and raised her wand. The three ran past them towards the dungeons. Concealing a smile, Hermione nudged the rest, including a chuckling Harry, to their Potions class.

"Sixth years, this way please." Then she asked them if any of them had a different schedule from the others.

The rest of the day went without any encounters with pesky newspaper people or terrible Head Boys and Head Girls. Even her headache abated a bit, thanks to Lavender and her magical, slightly bitter coffee. But the day, still, wasn't over.

At least, according to one poltergeist.


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

* * *

Hello there! First of all, I apologize because this isn't the update you're waiting for. Still an update, nonetheless, as I want to let you know what's happening with this fanfic.

I'm still working on some kinks and the plot outline; so far, I haven't really written anything yet as the hols distracted me (celebrations are pretty crazy here in the Philippines; they say you've never really celebrated anything unless you celebrate it here LOL) PLUS the fam and I are moving houses. I also got a graphic design job so...yeah.

I want to be honest with you, guys, instead of disappearing on you for far longer than my _initial_ hiatus. Yes, initial because I'll be asking for another one again (and for your patience and understanding as well).

I'm hoping to publish the updated chapter 1 this weekend, the updated chapter 2 next week-say Monday or Tuesday. It'll still depend on how fast I get it to my beta. And once those two chaps are out, just give me 5-7 days to get chapters 3, 4 and 5 done and beta-ed. There'll just be a few tweaks and changing of timelines as I've noticed some errors in scenes due to them being in 7th year, so I'm moving them one year below.

I'm bogged down with a lot of things right now and this upcoming move to a new house stresses me out and somehow stifles my creativity.

Thanks a lot, lovelies! As soon as everything's settled, you'll get your chapters faster and sooner just like before.

As a token of apology, I'm also preparing a _Dramione_ for you guys PLUS some aesthetics.

Yeah, that's right. I'm bribing you. *evil grin a la Tom Riddle*

I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK. I SWEAR, THEY WORK LIKE VITAMIN E FOR ENERGY. YOU GUYS ROCK!

XOXO,

Louise (replies to reviews below; please read)

* * *

 **REPLIES**

* * *

 **Guest: Dec 23, 2017:** I have a sneaking suspicion that you are Jas752…but if not, well, I love you both all the same. Thanks for reading my fanfic. I won't let you down, I promise. *sends you a box of heart-shaped chocolates*

As for your comment on my third chappie, yes, I'm feeling much better now. Being with fam and the relatives tends to lift my spirits (even if my younger cousins and smol brother are prone to bullying me . LOL I love them so much, those buggers)

 **Jas752:** Yay! I'm glad you decided to create an account just so you could leave a review. I am flattered and honored. I love you! *hugs and kisses* P.S. Are you and the guest commenter the one and the same? *gasps*

And sorry about having to turn off guest comments. I find that some can be mean enough to leave a review with no actual criticism and just attack someone behind the guise of anonymity. I will understand if people won't like this fanfic as not everyone will but come on, people. There's no need to be mean and negative. Hugs and kisses for all those kinds of peeps. They need it the most.

 **sun-shine-and-roses18:** Yass! I am so glad you liked THE KISS! Woohoo! *high fives you* And as for the Bloody Baron, I'm going off on the idea that if Peeves can move objects, then the other ghosts can.

That _Peter_ thing! Wahahaha! You are so right! It's a mistake. I might've been thinking of Peter Pettigrew while writing. Will remove that in the updated version XD P.S. You are getting your very own aesthetic. Thanks for being with the fic since chappie 1 (and for putting up with my errors)

 **Veelabyte:** Oh my goodness! Yass kababayan! Grammar Nazis represent! (This coming from a girl with so much grammatical errors in the past few chapters). Being Asian, it's like we have to work double on grammar AND I do love the English language. Butchering it is offensive (like I am probably doing now). Even more offensive is how Filipino is being butchered nowadays. Oh, the horror of jejemons!

And Spotify probably knows you're on the _kilig_ part. Somehow _kilig_ part. LOL. (I'll come up with a playlist although I believe I've already posted one?) I just need an excuse for another aesthetic. And yes, I'm adding more to my workload. Yikes!

 **Lexicon63738:** Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. Well, Tom is far from adorable but he has his moments.


	6. THE TROUBLE WITH PEEVES

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.**

 **.**

 **I would have to apologize for this chapter and the next** ; these were both written beforehand and when I updated chapters 4 and 5, I most took some of the content I had before and pasted them in here. There were additions, thought, so if you've read this before the update on 01/18/2018, please don't skip them entirely.

And also...thanks for not giving up on this. I had a whirlwind 2018 and will try to post more this year.

 _I will be posting another chapter tomorrow as peace offering. Hehe_

This one's for you, **green lioness**. With or without chocolates *gives you a kiss*

.

.

 **CHAPTER 5:** THE TROUBLE WITH PEEVES

Harry and Ron arrived from their Quidditch practice, sweating and wandered loudly when the food would be served. Then they noticed the Ravenclaw sitting at their table and engaged her in a conversation about her father's current expedition. Hermione noticed Lavender move closer to Ron and snake her arms around her boyfriend's.

Hermione shook her head and sipped her coffee. She remembered how jealous she was back then of the whisp-like stag Harry had summoned. The boy had learned it from one of his godfathers, Remus Lupin, last summer. She had begged him to teach her but all he did was grin at her and say "I'm not great at teaching, Hermione" everytime.

She cajoled, begged, whined and pestered him until he finally gave in. Harry ended up teaching not only her but Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna, too.

So jealous was she, she complained how Harry wouldn't teach her to her parents; her father reprimanded her for being childish and her mother almost refused to send her back to Hogwarts.

" _It's dangerous, Hermione! If you get into situations like that, then I don't think_ —"

 _"Grindelwald's been caught and jailed, Mum! He's not going to do anything else aside count what's remaining of his days!"_

It was dangerous, alright. The Battle of Hogsmeade wasn't Battlefield the painting.People didn't die or get tortured in paintings. Well, except for some artworks such as the famed Spolarium by Juan Luna or...

Hermione Granger laughed. She could think about a dozen or so paintings that depicted the gruesomeness of life and people but none would come close to what it hoped to depict with brush strokes and visual artistry.

Her friends gave her funny looks. "I just remembered something funny," she told them. And then winced, as a particularly nasty line of pain shot through speared the side of her forehead.

"Just tell us if you need to bring you to St. Mungo's, 'Mione—" Ron began. He didn't like admitting it but the boy like to worry his freckles off over her and Harry. Only, he did it in his own annoying way. "Ow!" He glared at his girlfriend.

"Don't insult her like that! She's your friend," Lavender screeched. The Head Girl muttered a _thank you_ which the girl returned with a smile. She supposed it was a grateful one; earlier, she caught Pansy Parkinson and her posey insulting the girl.

Not only did she dock fifty points from her fellow prefect, but she also sent them to McGonagall for detention, for using demeaning words against a fellow female.

Lavender pulled out her wand and _Accio_ ed a tiny porcelain container. "Let me?" The girl pointed at the cup of coffee.

It was just supposed to be fifteen points but with what Tom had done to her a week ago, she felt it was just right to add a couple more and sprinkle it with detention on top; those very girls and their house had insulted her for years for her so-called dirty blood.

She was just thinking about the muggle saying _Revenge is a dish best served cold_ when a loud voice coughed. Lavender's hand paused stirring Hermione's drink.

"Good evening, dear students!" Dumbledore intoned, the tip of his wand pressed against the side of this throat. "We won't be joining you tonight for your first holiday feast," he said. "And by we, I meant me and your Professors."

A mutter broke over the house tables.

"We'd be having an important meeting tonight with the Minister for Magic in my office. But before we leave..." he waited until the furor had died down. "There are just some things, regrettably, I need to tell you:

Hogsmeade trips are temporarily postponed due to some pressing matters as of the moment."

"What?" Harry, who sat across her, gasped, his face grim. His eyes then swivelled behind her and Hermione craned her neck and spotted Cho looking at their table. She raised an eyebrow and Harry turned away, flushing.

"We would be saying more once everything is completely and fully discussed. I trust that you would eat dinner and conduct yourselves properly. Do not hang around after dinner and go straight to your common rooms." Dumbledore ignored the collective groan that greeted his declaration. "I also trust that your Head Boy and Head Girl, along with the prefects, will be taking care of you. They would be the ones to decide the punishment for stragglers and those who wouldn't obey the orders I just laid out."

He beamed at them all. "That's all and enjoy your first day of December!" He lifted his arms and food appeared on the table. Chatter broke out over the food but it wasn't as festive as last year's December 1st, the first celebration since Grindelwald's defeat.

The professors, led by Dumbledore, marched out of the Great Hall. It was silent for a few minutes until the sound of cutlery filled the room.

Moments into their main course, a cackle swept over the Gryffindor table.

"Oooh, yum yum yum!" Peeves, a mean and nasty piece of a ghost, snatched the roast chicken just as Harry was about to cut it. He was holding another untouched one and was juggling the two in mid-air. "I wonder how it'd taste once this drops into the floor."

He let go of one and Ron twisted around and caught it in an embrace.

"Peeves." Hermione's icy syllable cut across the air and the poltergeist's smirk faltered a little. "Do you need assistance in reaching limbo?"

The ghost's translucent form turned even paler than possible. Gone was the smiling, smug face; it was the first time Hermione had ever seen him scowl.

Peeves kept his mouth shut and sucked in his cheeks. After staring at her balefully for a few more moments, like she had disappointed him, he disintegrated into mist and then completely disappeared.

"Whoa!" Neville stared at the space Peeves occupied. "He seemed scared and annoyed at the same time, Hermione."

"I've read it in a book." She shrugged and then sipped her hot drink. "I bet poltergeists are—This tastes awesome, Lavender. Thanks!—scared of getting stuck in limbo. They'd have no one to annoy there."

"I think he'd have a field day messing with his fellow ghosts there, too. Dad says he once entered limbo. He and Mum had done a sleep study in the garden. We could try it, you know."

"Er," Harry began. Hermione shot him a look. "How did they do it, Luna?"

Ron and Neville snickered. Hermione kicked them under the table. Harry, too. She heard more sniggers and brought out her wand and watched each Gryffindor who was listening to Luna Lovegood.

They quickly turned back to their dinner.

"They tied a three garden gnomes to his ankle; one almost bit his toes off but Mum stupefied the things. Unfortunately, Dad got stupefied too. It took them a few times until they decided to stupefy the gnomes first before tying them around his feet. And then Mum sang him a lullaby and he fell asleep."

"How was limbo? What did it look like?"

"Ronald Weasley..." Hermione hissed.

"What? Just asking."

"White. He said it's an endless white. You couldn't see anything but the white." Luna sighed and looked down on her tea. "I hope Mum didn't have to stay there when her time came, you know. I wished she'd gone on directly beyond that to who knows where."

The Gryffindor table quietened for a minute. Ginny put an arm around the girl while Hermione rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry about your Mum," she whispered.

"S'okay," her blonde friend replied. Her round, doe eyes smiled at Hermione but her lips remained in the tight smile. "But sometimes, I think it'll be cool for her to come back as a ghost, you know. Maybe there's a way..."

"Maybe." Hermione offered with a smile. "She might even keep Peeves in check."

An amused smile appeared. "I highly doubt. He'd probably join her in one of her experiments."

.

.

.

Tom woke up with a start and scrambled out of bed. _What time is it_ —crap! He neatly missed dinner. Hungry, a bit tired and his legs, which were forced to run in circles around the castle, ached due to the sudden movement. And for what?

The bloody Christmas hols, that is.

He volunteered for the task of putting up mistletoes and enlisted the help of the school's elves. The blasted things ran excitedly all-over the castle and he had to keep them all in check.

And prevent them from putting decors inside broom cupboards and alcoves. What for? If students went inside dark alcoves and broom cupboards, they most definitely did not need encouragement from mistletoes.

And there was Peeves, too. The poltergeist delighted in pelting snowballs at students and although Tom didn't mind what the stupid ghost wanted to do, it wouldn't do well for his prefect and good boy status if he ignored him.

Tom Riddle ran out of his Slytherin dorm, hastily putting on his uniform and underthings, hastily charming the creases of them, too, and ignored Leandra's calls. He had prefect patrols to do.

A few hallways later, he ran into Peeves again. For the second time this week.

"Peeves, do put that down, please," he said, staring up at the poltergeist.

"Nope. Never. Never ever forever..." the ghost answered in a sing-song voice. He clutched a white stuffed toy in his left hand and dangled it several feet over a tiny third year girl. "This cutie patootie wants to fly. Isn't it, little Rosie?"

"Peeves..."

"Please, give me back my Rosie. It's almost curfew." The third year snuck a fearful glance at Tom as she spoke.

The fat cotton dove reminded Tom Marvolo Riddle of a fight he got into at the orphanage. He managed to get some blows to an older kid's stomach with the help of the instructions in the karate book he filched from the town library but the boy's fist were swifter and more savage.

In his hatred, he wished that the bully's stupid rabbit die.

He imagined it.

And it happened. Whenever he imagined things, they happened. He stopped learning karate after the discovery of such an ability.

During dinner the next day, the poor rabbit was found hanging from the rafters, bloody and bruised, a noose around its neck. The kid, Billy Stubbs, was summoned to Mrs. Cole's office and the next day, a car with the words Harper's Mental Institution embossed on one of its doors came and took the boy away.

He smirked.

"Let it go, Peeves. Or the Bloody Baron would hear of this," he said.

The ghost harrumphed but didn't say anything. He faded into nothingness but the stuffed toy remained dangling in the air.

 _Blasted poltergeist..._

"Peeves, you know very well that I could send you straight to limbo."

The toy dropped on the third year's face. She hugged it tight to her shoulders, muttered a quick _thank you_ and ran for the hills as the poltergeist reappeared, fuming. He swooped down and stared Tom in the eye.

In surprise, the Slytherin prefect stumbled back a few steps.

"It's the second time this week! Second time! First dinner a few days ago and then...AARGH!"

His lips twitched but he reined in the smirk that threatened to break through. It was almost curfew, indeed, which was why droves of students from different houses were hurrying along. Some of them even pushed those in front of them.

"First, the Granger girl. And now, YOU!" With an inhumanly growl, the ghost dove straight to him and Tom Riddle landed on his behind.

 _Dammit!_ He brushed himself off as he stood and looked around at the few chuckles sent his way.

Damn ghost! Stupid ghost! He should read that book on ghosts again and find out exactly how to banish irksome ghosts not just into limbo but oblivion as well.

"You only have a few minutes before curfew," he began, and the stragglers slowed down. He recognized most of them to be third years. He then gave them his coldest yet most polite smile. "I suggest you retire to your dorms for the night if you don't want a month's worth of detention with Professor Snape."

The stragglers dispersed in a flurry of dark-colored robes. When the last of them disappeared round the bend of the corridor, Tom let out a sigh.

Time would come when his name would be feared more Severus Snape's.

He would never get to eat dinner. He ignored the way his stomach rumbled as he was used to it and marched towards the Great Hall, where he and the other Prefects plus their Heads would be congregating.

He heard a cackle and almost changed his course. He didn't fancy meeting Peeves again. Twice in one night? How irksome.

But it'll be easier to handle the poltergeist now than walk around and find another corridor that would lead to the same place. He was already late and he didn't have the energy. His stomach rumbled. Perhaps he should summon an elf from the kitchens?

"I hate you, Peeves. I mean it."

 _The mudblood?_ Tom's strides slowed. Great. Now he had to deal with the insect, too.

The poltergeist laughed. His voice was becoming louder and louder. "Now, now, dear. Hate is such a strong word."

An annoyed groan answered him. "Get me out of here, Peeves. Or else I'll hunt you and obliterate your soul to oblivion and beyond."

"You think I'm scared of your empty threats, girly?" Gone was the amused tone, replaced by a scathing, incensed one. "I am not."

He rounded the corner and saw the bushy-haired witch glaring up at the ghost floating above her. He stepped closer; if he was going to be late, he better amuse himself with the dirty-blooded girl's misery.

His footsteps echoed in the dimly-lit corridor and Hermione's head snapped towards him. Her jaw dropped.

"Oooh, we have a playmate!" Peeves snickered.

The girl was panicking; he could see it on her face. "Don't come near me; just...just stay where you are!"

"You don't hold authority over me, _mudblood._ "

"Oooh." The poltergeist tutted. "Don't say bad words, boy."

Peeves said those words at the same time Hermione hissed desperately. She moved a bit closer to the wall inches behind her. "No, Riddle. I meant it. Just stay where you are. Peeves is—"

"Blah, blah, blah, blah," the ghost sang, "No, Riddle. I meant it. Just stay where you are," and mimmicked her words and put on a girly screeching voice while at it.

Hermione tried to plead with him but the poltergeist cut across her syllables by blowing raspberries.

Tom smirked as he drew nearer; if Peeves was this amusing, he'd look away the next time the spectre causes mischief.

He was too focused on the desperation on Hermione's face he didn't notice the ghost's mouth curve into a cat got the cream smile. Closer and closer he moved. Farther and farther Hermione moved away.

Until the tip of his shoe was just an inch or so away from hers. Hermione closed her eyes as Peeves cackled madly.

"You daft boy," she half-whispered, half-spat. Her eyes were huge with "You just trapped yourself in a mistletoe with me."

 _What?_ Tom's eyes shot up.

His blood boiled upon seeing the mistletoe.

Peeves floated on his side, head resting on his left palm, holding something with the other. The ghost's right hand fingers dangled a forest green wreath dotted with red berries and decorated with white, celtic knots. He grinned mischievously at them.

"I've got a present...kissy kissy!" With a wave of laughter, the poltergeist vanished into thin air. But the accursed mistletoe remained floating on top of them, mocking them like the ghost that held it mere seconds ago.

His simmering gaze slowly left it and fell on the curly-haired girl, whose face was a deep shade of red as she stared back at him.

"We could try to..." She slowly moved away from him, a step back, another inch, to the left. Towards the exit of the corridor.

 _That...that...bloody ghost..._ he would find a way to make him pay for subjecting the Heir of Slytherin to such embarrassment. There must be a book somewhere, about ghosts, how to make them suffer, maybe in the Restricted —

 _Blast it! Bloody hell! Bloody fucking Merlin!_

He would rather snog the Giant Squid than place his lips on the mudblood's! He'd even cruciate himself if necessary.


	7. BLASTED MISTLETOE

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.**

 **JUST A SUGGESTION...**

Veelabyte said that when she was reading the original mistletoe scene (which is almost exactly the same below but with a few minor tweaks), _This Kiss_ by _Faith Hill_ played. Try that song or better yet, jam to Dusk 'Til Dawn by Zayn Malik ft. Sia.

^0^

 **CHAPTER 6:** BLASTED MISTLETOE

Hermione took another step to the left away from him and got pulled back by an invisible force. She slammed onto his chest; on instinct, he caught her and bent his knees a little to prevent themselves from falling

He gritted his teeth.

"Stupid girl, d'you think you can outdo the enchantments of these useless trinkets? You dare call me daft and — " He shoved her away from him but just like the first time, she was pulled back to him like a magnet and he almost stumbled.

How absurd these Christmas traditions were.

What was equally absurd was that he didn't know how to break the harmless curse as he had never bothered for nonsensical spells. What for?

He had almost forgotten his talk earlier with the elves. The useless, batty twits practically glowed in delight and started jumping up and down when he told them about Dumbledore's orders. Then argued amongst themselves on who would put them up, beating each other with cooking utensils.

He would've liked to beat them all.

He had almost forgotten, too, the number of girls he had to evade, hoping to catch him under the mistletoes which appeared without a warning in the afternoon. He only made an exception for Cho Chang, the pretty and quiet Ravenclaw, who was caught off-guard as he spun her around and placed his mouth on hers.

Roger Davies, her suitor, had watched with blazing eyes and he gave the boy a wink when the girl pushed him away, panting.

 _Sod it all to hell!_ He took a step forward and the brunette's eyes widened. He didn't fancy kissing the abomination but he would hate it more if people were to see it. Besides, he could just pretend she was Chang, his next target.

Cho, unlike the others, would be a bit harder to woo but if he based it on their kiss, she'd soon be rushing willingly to his arms and bed. She'd been without a boyfriend for two years; surely, she'd pick him, Tom Riddle, over that Davies.

"Don't tell anyone about this!" he hissed.

Granger's blush deepened and she snapped at him. "And why would I embarrass myself by doing that? I'd sooner _Avada_ myself than — "

"Let me do the honors." Tom gripped her by the chin and locked his gaze into her unblinking, wide hazel ones. How dare she be disgusted? She should be honored that _someone_ would've to lower himself down and kiss her. "I'll kill you once were out of this blasted mistletoe, you can be sure of that."

He pressed his lips on hers and claimed his kiss with a promise she wouldn't enjoy it. He would bruise her by the way he plundered her mouth and he didn't care. Her hands crept up the front of his shirt, not to tangle in the fabric but to push him away.

Tom didn't budge; instead he bit her lower lip hard and soon, he reveled in the metallic taste of blood.

He pulled away, smirking at the cut on her lip and she looked at him with disgust. He matched the look on her face but she rubbed her lips, swollen from his snog, with the back of her hand.

It looked inviting...invitingly red and kissable and...

 _Damn it!_ He moved away and she did, too, but they were both pulled back and slammed into each other. Gritting his teeth, he stared up. The mistletoe was still there.

Blasted thing.

"Are you stupid? The enchantment...won't lift until you...kiss..." He looked with revolt at her upon the word 'kiss.' "Until you kiss me back," he whispered heatedly and lowered his head, as if someone could hear them.

"Stop calling me stupid or dense, you idiot! Whose fault was it in the first place? I told you not to come any closer!"

He would never admit it to anyone, least of all to the bloody Gryffindor, but it'd only occured to him at that moment that both parties must be willing for the enchantment to lift.

"Do you know that Cho had no choice but to kiss you back to get of her misery?" His fellow prefect scoffed. The mudblood actually scoffed! "I'll tell you, Riddle, she had to rush to her dorm and rub her lips with washcloth until they were raw! And she was crying."

Tom saw red. No girl ever said no to him. He would make the mudblood realize one thing; nobody ever said no to Tom Riddle.

"I know you're angry."

"Yeah, right. And am I supposed to believe your good boy act now?"

"I'm sorry I drew blood." Clenching his jaw, he took two deep breaths and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stared into her light brown eyes for a few seconds until she flushed scarlet. He watched the gorgeous color travel slowly from her cheeks to the rest of her face.

Good. Step one, done. On to the next one.

"But I assure you, Miss Granger, kissing is my expertise." He took a step forward. "Would you like me to demonstrate — "

"What?" Hermione blinked, and then took a step back. "Um, n-no need for demonstrations."

He never let go of her gaze as they continued their dance, except to stare at her lips. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip.

"A quick snog will do. I promise I'll cooperate," she said.

"I like that word. _Cooperate._ " Tom Riddle smirked at his prey. "Are you cooperative, Hermione?"

.

.

.

.

Hermione's legs didn't feel like legs at all; they felt like thin matchsticks and the longer she stood on them, the bigger the probability of them snapping and sending her crashing to the ground. She leaned against the wall, slightly panting.

She wouldn't look at the boy in front of her. No, never ever ever. Instead, she stared at the tips of his polished shoes and gasped when those shoes moved.

Forward.

"Just stay there, Riddle!" she hissed through gritted teeth. Her heart raced when he heard his laugh.

"Relax, I won't bite. Not without permission."

The Gryffindor's head snapped up and she gave him a look as potent as the Killing Curse itself. "I won't let you."

He only smiled at her but the beating of her heart quadrupled. And when he bit his lower lip, again and then licked it, she called on Merlin, Morgana and all deities both Muggle and Wizarding for help.

It was getting harder and harder not to pounce on him. She took a deep breath, bit her lip and stared at him.

 _Get your mind out of the gutter! Focus! And what do you mean by pounce on him? Good Merlin, Hermione!_

.

.

.

.

Tom's eyes narrowed in on Granger's lips when her two front teeth appeared and pulled on the plump, freshly-snogged skin. He took another step forward, not taking his eyes off her enticing mouth.

He was only half-aware of her wide-eyed gaze.

He hadn't sampled her lips that much and never bothered to taste them properly, for she was a mudblood; but she was a girl, he was a boy, and he wondered what it'll be like to —

He gulped and it wasn't just acting on his part, at least not in that moment. Then he noticed the girl steal a glance at his lips, and then her tongue darted out to lick her own.

He lost it.

With a growl, he launched himself at her.

He captured her lips in a searing kiss, this time intent on tasting, taking, and conquering. Granger stilled in his arms and her hands pressed flat on his chest again, but he only pressed further, pressing her against the wall with his body, feeling her petite form against the hard planes of his.

His hands pressed flat on the flagstones on each side of her and pushed at it as if it could be moved.

He licked the seam of her upper lip and tasted the scent of her cherry-flavored balm. Moaning, he bit on her lower lip and sipped on it. He was rewarded with an answering moan of her own.

And slowly, gently, she started to move her lips against his.

The hands pressed against his chest clutched at the fabric covering it and her fingers gently ran up to his nape, her nails scratching the skin on his neck and at the base of his hair.

His blood raced through his system in blaze of heat.

Tom's hands left the wall. He tugged at her hair with his fingers and Hermione gasped; his tongue quickly slipped into her open mouth.

Tasting, taking, and conquering.

Coaxing her tongue to move with his and when she surrendered with a moan, he was lost.

Addicting.

She knew how to kiss, the little minx. Her tongue met his and he suckled on the tip of it, as they fought for dominance in the heated kiss.

He wanted, he wanted more more more...he kept one hand tangled in her hair as his other one slipped down her shoulders, her arm —

"Ooh, enjoying your time, youngsters?" a crude voice asked, following by sounds of lips smacking against each other to sound like kisses.

He jumped away from her but when his eyes took her in, looking flustered, red in the face, her hair messy and robes dishevelled, panting heavily and staring at him with hooded yet surprised eyes, he almost went back for another kiss.

Almost. The girl rounded on the poltergeist before Tom could even blink an eye.

"The Bloody Baron would hear of this," Hermione screeched. Her face was still red.

Peeves eyes narrowed at her. "You could try and call him, but he won't answer to your calls." The poltergeist turned to Tom, whose eyes turned to slits. "Not even to you."

"I bloody know that," the Gryffindor spat. "But he will. To Professor Snape."

Tom let the two bicker. The mistletoe lay on the ground by his feet, its enchantment consumed. What he'd like to consume...a flash of what the bushy-haired Gryffindor looked like in her dishevelled post-snog state —

He sent his magic to the mistletoe and it burst into flames with a _bang!_ In his peripheral view, he saw her jump. Tom's gaze was drawn to her again.

Hermione Granger looked like something he would devour for dinner. His eyes darkened and something in his lower region twitched with the implication in his thoughts.

Then she brandished her wand again and this time, it was he who jumped.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery wisp shot out from the end of the Gryffindor's wand and turned into a ghostly otter. Tom watched, mouth slightly open, as she stood up and stared into its eyes. "Tell Professor Snape that Peeves has been causing mayhem. Tell him that we would need the Bloody Baron."

The animal nodded and in a flash of light, disappeared.

Peeves stared after it in trepidation. "Fine, you win this one, girlie!" He glared at the girl before disappearing with a harrumph.

Tom slowly closed his mouth as his gaze shifted to the mudblood. He had never heard of such a spell although it did seem vaguely familiar.

The Gryffindor prefect sprang away from the wall, looked away from him and ran her wand over herself, fixing her state. His eyes followed every movement of her hand.

And then she ran away.

He didn't take his eyes off her form until she disappeared right into another corridor.

She never looked back at him. Not even once. With a harsh sigh, he watched the smoldering remnants of the mistletoe, now ashes. He felt the same way. Spent.

He couldn't even think straight. Nothing came to his mind. After a few more moments of calming his erratic breath, he headed back to the dungeons.

He didn't care about the bloody patrols anyway. If anything, all he'd accomplish was seek the Gryffindor witch for another rousing round of snogging, mistletoe or no mistletoe.

Tom cursed and it echoed loudly in the night.

"Oi! Keep it down! Someone's sleeping over here!" a portrait of a bald drunkard admonished him.

He raised his wand and blasted the portrait to oblivion come.

.

.

.

.

One more thought of _that_ kiss and Hermione Granger would ship herself to St. Mungo's in a box that said 'HAVE MERCY, END THE MISERY, AND BURY IMMEDIATELY. THANKS! VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! XOXO, HERMIONE.'

Was euthanasia even a concept in the wizarding world? Hermione sighed. Perhaps, she should walk off the edge of a cliff.

It wasn't as if knowing a certain Tom Riddle existed made the struggle any easier. In fact, she'd taken to sitting with her back to the Slytherin table just so she wouldn't be tempted to steal glances at him once in a while.

As if she weren't doing that in any of their classes recently.

 _My gosh, get a grip, Hermione!_ It wasn't some trashy romance pocketbook where the heroine would pine after the alpha male who never had any semblance of description beyond hot, has six-pack abs and ultimately, rude.

Tom Riddle, she wasn't so sure about if six-pack fit the bill perfectly; but the rude part?

Well, he wasn't just rude! A prat, too! An insufferable jerk.

And a damn good kisser. A _hot_ damn good kisser. Hermione crinkled her eyes shut and screamed her throat into shreds on her pillow. Crookshanks leapt off the bed and slinked away with distaste on his face, if that were even remotely possible for a cat.

"I know you're judging me," she said to her pet. "I am judging myself, too, you know. But d'you know the worst part of this? It's — wait, I think I need a butterbeer — Peeves. That dumb ghost! Once I catch him I'll blast him off to the underworld!"

The poltergeist, it seemed, took offence to the two of them threatening him with limbo.

 _"You think you're both smart, bringing up limbo and try scaring me? Hah! I got you back! Nobody could ever beat Peeves!"_

Then the ghost proceeded to inform the whole castle with a jingle the next day.

 _"They kissed, they kissed! Under the mistletoe, they kissed!"_ Peeves floated over the tables at breakfast, weaving in and out of the spaces between the students. _"Him and her, they kissed!"_

He pointed at her and Riddle as he sang.

Hermione Granger willed the floor the swallow her in that moment. Sadly, that didn't end there; the annoying ghost followed her everywhere, singing the damn song in eight different tempos and keys.

 _"They kissed, they kissed! Under the mistletoe, they kissed!"_

Great. Now she couldn't get the blasted song and Tom Riddle out of her head.

The door to the room opened and in marched her roommates. She knew they were on a mission, judging by the smirks on their faces. Well, at least, except Ginny. The girl's eyebrows were furrowed and her arms were crossed in front of her.

"Don't say a word," Hermione began. "I know what you want me to tell you."


	8. THE CONS OF BEING FEMALE

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, plot and other trademarks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and affiliated companies; not me.**

 **ANOTHER DISCLAIMER:** That could change one day. If not, then maybe I can buy Hogwarts.

 **Hello, lovelies! Thanks for reading, follow, favoriting and commenting. It means a lot to me that you'd take the time to pay attention to a badly-drafted and mostly unbeta-ed fanfic.**

It's by no means perfect, structure and grammatically-wise (I cringe because I am actually an ESL teacher) but I just decided that screw it! It's better to create something stupid and revise it later on. It's 2019, get your shit together Louise!

Yeah, something along those lines. But seriously, I promise to improve this as soon as it's finished.

 **CHAPTER 7:** THE CONS OF BEING FEMALE

The door swung open and Ginny stepped in with Luna. Hermione looked up from her half-filled scroll. Homework was the only thing that could preoccupy her mind as she refused to dwell on what happened several nights ago.

And if there wasn't enough homework, she'd go over Harry's, Ron's, Neville's and sometimes, even check what Seamus and Dean had written.

If crossing out the boys' grammatical and factual errors weren't enough, she'd check out books from the library and read until her body begged for sleep.

"Luna! What are you doing here?" She stood up and the ink at the tip of her quill dripped unto her covers. She vanished it with a cleaning spell.

"You've been quiet lately, Hermione." The blond girl threw her a whimsical looking pair of eyeglasses. It looked a bit like the three-dimensional glasses some illustrated children's books came with, save for the large winged tips. "Was it the wrackspurts around your bed or Tom Riddle?"

Ginny was humming something that strangely sounded like _"They kissed, they kissed! Under the mistletoe, they kissed!"_

She was inspecting the perimeter around her bed, trying to make sense of the 'wrackspurt glasses' and stilled at the mention of the bloody Slytherin's name.

"Don't say his name," she hissed. Then wrenched the winged piece of decorated parchment off her face.

Ginny shared an amused look with Luna. Hermione clenched her jaw. "You know, Peeves seems to be talented at creating songs."

The redhead narrowly ducked a jinx from her brunette friend but was not so lucky when Luna's glasses came for her next, and hit her square on the face. Their Ravenclaw friend sighed and sat on the edge of her bed.

"What exactly happened? Ginny here isn't telling me anything."

"Well, it's surprising that Parvati and Lav-Lav isn't telling the whole castle by-oh, don't give me that look, Luna. Ugh, fine!"

By the end of her long paragraph punctured by squeals, indignant groans and blushing stutters from the narrator of the story herself, her two friends exchanged another look.

It was less gleeful than the last one.

"Well, I'm sure that this is just a phase," Ginny said, perching herself beside Luna. A frown wormed its way into her pretty, freckled face. Hermione wished she had some. They looked cute on her friend.

"A phase? A phase?" Hermione scrambled out of her bed and the girl jumped. "You're right. This is just a...no! you're wrong! This isn't even a phase! This is nothing, you hear me, Ginevra Weasley? Luna Lovegood? Nothing!"

"Hey! Don't call me Ginevra!"

"Yeah. Loud and clear." Luna laid down sideways on top of the thick, red blanket. "I can also hear intense denial."

"What?!"

"Luna's right, Hermione." The redhead's eyes crinkled at the corners before fading. "But I'm worried."

"There's nothing to be worried about, Ginny!" Hermione, who had been pacing back and forth, whirled around and perched her hands on her hips. "We got trapped under a mistletoe because of that foul ghost."

"Yet you're acting as if you're waiting for the ministry to storm in here," Luna said. "I know you're not in love — "

"Of course I'm not!" Hermione scoffed but Ginny butted in.

"I saw you and Riddle last week in the library."

The brunette stared at her friend. "Well, as prefects, we were partnered for the Christmas deco— "

"Yes, it is. Totally different as he didn't seem intent on kissing. He had his wand out and I saw the ward." Ginny Weasley gave her a withering look worthy of McGonagall. "And don't deny it."

"Wait, what ward?" Hermione stopped her pacing and faced them. And then she remembered the Battle of Hogsmeade. Ginny had notice the Anti-Apparition wards that prevented them from escaping.

Luna pushed away from the bed and pulled her legs up to set her chin on her knees. "Why didn't you tell us, Hermione? Is he bullying you? And this girl right here — " the blonde tilted her head at Ron's sister "Wasn't planning on telling me too. If I hadn't noticed her following Riddle — "

"Wait, what?" Why was Ginny following the git?

"You keep saying wait, Hermione."

"That's beside the point, Ginny!" She started pacing again. "At dinner, two nights ago, I think, I asked you if you were okay." Her eyes traveled between the two girls. "I asked you because I noticed you both looked at the Slytherin table and — Merlin, how could I be so stupid to forget? Was that because of the library thing?"

"No." It was Luna who answered. The Ravenclaw stood up, crossed her arms and glared at Ginny. It was the first time Hermione ever saw her do that. "Not only that. But let Miss Ginny Weasley enlighten us here."

Ginny glared back at Luna, who just rose an eyebrow.

"Well?" the Ravenclaw prodded.

The redhead sighed. "I was in my first year," she began. "I don't exactly remember, it seemed to be a a period of several blackouts. Some days I don't even remember getting out of bed. But I knew it was him."

Hermione's knees almost gave way. "Did he...did he try something?"

"Not that I know of. Or at least, felt. But..." The girl with the freckles looked up at her, eyes tearing up. "I...I remember blood and a gigantic snake."

.

.

.

.

Luna had heard the story before and had held Ginny too, as her friend cried, but seeing Hermione react the same way she would've if she was used to openly showing her emotions brought back the unease.

Not just the unease. The fear, the dread. It had always been there, like an itch left by an ant bite somewhere on your back that none of your fingers could reach. But you knew it was there.

A storm was brewing and whether it had something to do with Slytherin bullies or imprisoned dark lords, she didn't know.

The first time she felt that was when Cedric Diggory died.

She fancied him a bit. He was nice, good-looking and a perfect gentleman. She saw the way he treated Cho Chang. The way he looked at the girl...it was pure affection, not quite love but almost there. Every morning he'd be waiting outside their dorm, greeting them all but his smile would widen and reach his eyes as soon as his girlfriend appeared from behind the door with the eagle knocker.

Then the Triwizard Tournament happened.

One of Grindelwald's spies impersonated an auror who was supposed to supervise the dangerous competition and instead of one, Hogwarts found itself two champions: Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter.

The Gryffindor got out with another scar and the Hufflepuff...Cho had refused to leave his side for hours and cradled the dead boy's corpse.

Luna didn't want to be in Cho Chang's shoes.

She had grown fond of her Gryffindors. They were the only people who had accepted and befriended her no matter how 'loony' she was. She sometimes wished she was sorted into their house so that she could sleep in the warm and cheery red and gold dorm with them to chat or gossip just like her own roommates did.

But losing a loved one, a mother, made her wary. What about her Da? Her friends?

And...she closed her eyes as Ginny's sob subsided... _Ron?_

She didn't know how it happened. It just did. Maybe it was because he played Quidditch. How silly it sounded even to her ears but she did like boys who played sports and were fit.

Just like any other girl, she found the Quidditch pitch to be a paradise.

"I'm sorry," Ginny muttered, hiccuping. Hermione tutted, exchanged a look with her and summoned a glass of water. The redhead drank the ice cold drink greedily.

Luna shook her head and uncrossed her arms. "Apology not accepted. We're still not done, you two. From now on, no more keeping secrets about bullies and prefect-slash-possible dark lords in the making. Especially..." She added, with a smile, "Evil handsome boys who kiss well under a mistletoe."

"Luna, if you value your life..." Hermione's lips curled.

"But I am simply telling the truth." She put on her dreamy, nonchalant voice, knowing it would annoy the bushy-haired girl more. "You wouldn't have reacted the way you did if he didn't leave an impression, would you?"

Besides, it added to the dramatics, to the flair. It was her Da's fault; he loved bringing her to the theater.

She dodged a jinx and put up a _Protego_ ,her laugh mixing with Ginny's, and went for the door. Before she could turn the knob, it opened and in came Parvati Patil, followed by Lavender Brown.

The latter's smile dropped. "What are you doing here, Ravenclaw?"

"Good evening, Lavender, Parvati," she said, continuing with her trademark Luna Lovegood tone. "There were a lot of nargles around Hermione's bed. Thankfully, there weren't around yours."

A snort came from behind her and the corners of her lips twitched.

"Nargles? I thought it was wrackspurts," Hermione piped up.

Luna's right hand twitched. Should she hit her friend with a permanent _Silencio_?

"Oh, I've no doubt about that," Lavender replied. The girl gave her a once-over. "But could you check my boyfriend for me? There seems to be a cloud of those hanging around him lately. Think you can vanish them away?"

Her forehead creased. _How did she..._ she'd been careful not to show anyone, not even Hermione and Ginny. Not a soul had been told, either.

Perhaps girlfriends had nostrils the size of a fox's and could smell like them, too.

"Ronald Weasley is fine, Lavender. Wrackspurts and nargles...even brynskees, they don't like redheads. They much prefer brunettes or those with black hair — "

"Listen here, Lovegood," Lavender quipped. The girl stepped forward and Luna eyed her pale blue knitted pullover. Would it be good timing if she asked where Brown got it from? "I want you to stay away from my boyfriend."

And there went her dreams of owning a beautifully-weaved and warm-looking pullover perfect for bringing out the blue in her eyes. "I'm not sure I follow you, Lavender."

"Don't call me that! We're not friends." Lavender scoffed, fixed the headband atop her brown ringlets — this close, Luna discovered that it had threads of blond running through them. "And of course, you wouldn't get it. I wonder why they even sorted you in Ravenclaw."

Ginny and Hermione were beside her in an instant. "You're reaching, Brown," Ginny said. "My brother and Luna are just friends."

"This is unnecessary, Lavender," Hermione added. "She's one of us. Also, you're mistaken. Unless Neville Longbottom is your boyfriend, then you need not worry."

Luna's jaw dropped; she didn't know whether to chuckle or throw herself off the window. Parvati gave her the side eye; with the girl's storytelling prowess, the castle would surely be buzzing of a Longbottom and Lovegood nuptials soon.

She had no plans of marrying before her thirtieth birthday, most especially not to Longbottom, not that he wasn't cute but...

He just wasn't Ron Weasley.

After Lavender was pacified and became interested in asking her if Longbottom had asked her out already, the poor shy boy, Hermione steered her out of the Gryffindor dorms and pulled her towards the Ravenclaw tower.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked, after a long bout of silence and a sigh.

"Oh, definitely. Loads necessary. For starters, it helps throw the scent off your track." Hermione grinned at her.

Luna Lovegood didn't like that grin. It reminded her of Peeves and the sneaky fox in one of those children's cartoons she once saw when she visited Hermione's Muggle home. One of Hermione's little cousins were visiting on the same day, too, and had been glued to the pensieve-like contraption called the telly.

Although it fascinated her, she didn't think shows about thieving foxes and a girl with a talking monkey traipsing around the country were conducive to a child's development; if anything, said child might pack up, sneak a monkey out of the zoo, slip some boots on it and visit the Amazon jungle with nothing but a backpack, a map and a handful of songs about the most mundane of things.

Not even magic would be able to undo the physical and mental damage such an event would cause. The South American jungle held creatures even wizards wouldn't dream to meet.

Harry and Hermione laughed like it was the end of the world when she told them.

Another thing that bugged her: foxes didn't walk around on two hind legs and use their front legs like a hand. The animals used all four legs. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Absolutely bloody wrong.

And speaking of wrong... "Yes, I know but there's no scent to throw off my track, Hermione. And stop smiling like that, you look just like Peeves."

The girl's grin vanished. "Don't compare me to that floating piece of — "

"Language," she admonished, in a good imitation of Mrs. Granger.

The woman's daughter shook her head. "I know what you're doing, Luna. Stop trying to change the topic. It's hard not to notice, you know. Even Harry — "

She gasped. One awkward thing after another. "Harry knows?!"

The eerie Peeves-like smile was back on Hermione's face. "I knew it! So, Ron Weasley, huh? Since when?"

Since when did she ever decide that having friends was a good idea? It was the most rotten one in the world, next to animated muggle drawings that deceive children with factual errors.

I am inordinately fond of Luna Lovegood and I think it shows. In fact, I support all female characters of Harry Potter although I may not like them all.

And in case you don't know what Dora the Explorer is, where have you been living all this time? Just kidding but hey, I sang all the songs and answered Dora's questions as if we're in a real convo. Don't judge, people. I was 9 or 10, I don't exactly remember!


	9. TWO YEARS AGO

So here we are again. Another day, another unbeta-ed update. I try my best but right now I'm really just busy with work and school.

Please bear with me. I will publish a separate, revised better-written version with new content once I finish this. I'll keep this up, though, so everyone will see how much this story changed.

 **XOXO,**

Pixie-Height Louise

* * *

 **CHAPTER 8:** TWO YEARS AGO

 _Hogsmead, two years ago..._

A loud _BANG!_ went off right in front of them as spidery cracks crawled from under the soles of their boots. With a yelp, Ron jumped away and she, like the others, followed suit.

The cracks slithered across the broken pavement like snakes following their every move. Steam, heat and magma rolled off the fissures, the ground rumbled and the sky closed its curtains on them.

In the blink of an eye, Hogsmeade transformed into Sodom and Gomorrah. Only the fire wasn't raining down from the heavens; it spewed directly out of hell. The smoke and lava casted an orangey glow around them and caused shadows to warp against their faces.

Hermione watched the several layers and shades of red, orange and yellow against the soot and dark fog. It looked like a painting she had once seen in a museum.

"Come on!" Ginny pulled her away and the six of them, she, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Neville ran as far as they could. Desperate bodies and scared faces joined them, some dressed in robes, some in casual Muggle clothing.

Her brain started working like clockwork. As she sprinted and pulled her way through the panicking masses, her eyes watched the path of the —

Another _BANG!_ and this time, the fissures came from the other end of the street where they were all headed for.

They were trapped. The scorching lava was coming for all of them on all sides.

"What are we going to do?" A man howled to their left. Voices started joining him, yelling, screaming and wailing. Some tried to charm the molten liquid fire but to no avail. It kept up its approach.

"Aren't you all wizards?" A woman yelled somewhere in the cacophony. The voices were then drowned by dozens of _pops_ and little by little, the population dwindled.

She met Ron and Harry's gazes. They've all passed their Apparation tests, even Ron, who lost half of his eyebrows. He got it perfectly on the second time. This should be easy. Child's play.

"On three..." Harry said. The five nodded. "One, two — "

"Wait! Wait, please don't leave us! We d-don't have magic!" An elderly couple tried to clutch at a young man who shoved them away before apparating. Hermione would recognize that perfectly-styled, slight curly black hair anywhere. She saw him earlier, entering Tomes and Scrolls.

Her eyes narrowed. Tom Riddle had tormented her since their second year for being born of two non-magical parents. She wasn't surprised he'd leave the poor, innocent Muggles to their fate.

The population dwindled but stragglers, like the old couple, and some other people, huddled together, wide eyes darting back and forth between the approaching menace.

"We can't just leave these Muggles!" A blur of pale blonde and pale limbs raced past them towards the group.

"Luna, no!" Neville screamed. The blonde girl screeched to a halt, right on time as a black mist materialized between them and the people with no magical powers. The mist formed first into a smirk before transforming into a body.

The man wore battle robes and armour. He tilted his head at them and they instinctively withdrew their wands, even Luna.

But he wasn't after them. At least, not yet. He raised his wand as more figures materialized from dark-colored mists around them. When he brought it down, fire burst right under the Muggles' feets and they screamed as it rose to an inferno.

"No!" Hermione screamed, tears streaming down her face in a steady flow. Watching a turkey rolling over lit coals was one thing, watching humans, her fellow humans, burn into ashes before her was another.

Forms rose up from the cracks on the pavement, wearing robes and armour just like the first man. Hermione stared at them with wide eyes and mouth gaping like a fish. She'd just seen snippets of them in the Daily Prophet, had heard snatches of news from the other students and filled the rest of the missing information with what her mind could imagine.

Dark wizards, the lot of them. That would explain the hail.

" _Protego!"_ She and Harry screamed at the same time as Ron bolted over to Luna and dragged her away. The blonde struggled and screamed but the redhead boy was much stronger. He shoved her away from the dark-cloaked men and onto the asphalt near Ginny.

"D'you have a death wish, Loony Lovegood?" Ron asked.

Ginny snarled at him. "Don't call her that, Ronald!"

Ron opened his mouth but a stinging jinx caught him and he yelped. Luna then turned away from him, wand still lit with her last spell, and watched as the men in dark cloaks turned on them

"Ginny, go!" Harry yelled. Helping Luna up, who struggled against his hold, he broke into a sprint. Hermione followed after them and put up shield after shield, knowing her feeble _Protego_ wouldn't work against the darker spells rushing for them.

But it worked as a good enough buffer. She and her friends were able to slip into an alley and pressed themselves flat against the wall, hiding behind the shadows of stacked barrels.

Ron pulled his sister behind him. "Stay here, Gin."

"Don't manhandle me, Ron! I can handle myself!" The younger Weasley pushed his outstretched arm away before settling down beside Luna, who was trying to calm a hyperventilating Neville.

"In case you weren't aware, you're using the word manhandle incorrectly!" He spat.

Hermione hid a smile; she had admonished his use of the word just last week. " _Muffliato,"_ she casted silently and shushed the redhead siblings. She didn't trust her Silencing spell to hold long under stress.

"This won't do. We're trapped and they're more powerful," Harry told her and Ron. As usual, he paced back and forth until Hermione took his hand. She saw Ron smirk and quickly let go.

If only he knew...

"What do we do?" Ginny asked. "I wish Dumbledore was here — "

Harry gasped. "That's it!" He pulled out his wand and screamed, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The ghostly stag leapt from the tip of his wand and although she'd seen it before, her jaw still dropped. She had tried to cast it herself, thinking it'd be easy since she already knew the incantation but nothing happened except that one time, when a faint whisp of light and smoke burst forth from her wand and died after approximately four seconds.

The Boy-Who-Lived stared into the eyes of his Patronus. "Tell Dumbledore we're trapped here. We need help. Please."

It galloped up and away, before vanishing into nothingness.

"There!" They heard a man shout and exchanged panicked stares. Luna, however, crawled towards the barrels and peeked into a small opening between two of the wooden drums.

They all raised their wands, including Neville.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry led the charge as shouts from the opening of the alley turned into spells and rushed towards them.

"Think you could best us with that, lad? _AVADA KE_ — !"

A bright white supernova exploded in the space between them and the attackers. The teenagers were thrown off up into the air and down and further into the narrow street.

Hermione groaned; several bones in her body seemed to be broken but she forced herself to look up as the ball of light morphed into several robe-clad forms, led by their new Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

He looked behind him with a scowl that she hadn't seen before on his kind and sometimes face. He looked like he was out to destroy whoever stood in his path. And when he asked if they were alright, she opened her mouth but only a croak came out.

"Ron! Ginny!" A burly, redhead man rushed towards the two Weasleys and engulfed them in a tight hug. "Are you two okay?"

Ron only nodded and clung to him, while Ginny cried into his shoulders. After a few soothing words of encouragement, Arthur pried himself from the grip of his children and checked them all for bruises.

"This isn't good," he said and Hermione's eyes snapped to Luna, whose arm was bent in a strange angle. "You need to go straight to the infirmary. Hermione?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Weasley?"

The man tossed a quill at her. "It may be thin but that'll be enough to transport you all to the gates of Hogwarts. Make sure to keep your friends in check and call, yell, do anything to get someone's attention and — "

She didn't hear the rest of his words. The barrels that covered them exploded into flames and splinters and a dark shadow leapt over Harry and covered the whole alley.

Hermione screamed louder than the others did as spells rushed towards them from all sides.

.

.

.

.

Patience wasn't a virtue he planned on coveting. It annoyed him to no end but it was all he had; his only companion in the dark, dank prison cell. Even the sun denied him of her presence.

His stomach growled and he shivered, folding in on himself, as he was reminded of other things he'd also been denied of by the prison guards.

The only consolation he found in Nurmengard was that there were no dementors. The British coveted all the foul creatures for themselves and put them in Azkaban.

He would wait; he had no other choice. To move now would be unwise and besides, he wanted to make everyone feel safe and secure. They would grow complacent.

They would forget all about Gellert Grindelwald because he got locked away.

And that was when he'd attack.

Grindelwald smiled into the shadows and scratched his unkempt beard. He watched as the blacks and greys shifted into a solid yet smooth rectangular pane floating inches from the ground. A face rose out of its middle.

"My lord," the face greeted him. "Are you certain you want to stay in there longer?"

"A hundred percent, Boczek. It may a bit boring but it helps me think. Lets me learn to be patient."

Boczek flashed a barely-there grin. "Good for you, my lord. Patience is indeed one skill you lack. The only think you lack, might I add."

The wizened old man guffawed. "At least I have time, my protege. What have you been doing with yours?"

"Watching, shifting bits and pieces here and there, you know."

"Bits and pieces, you humor me. I've heard about the girl who went missing in Belarus."

"Well, the pretty thing's family came from wild, untaught wizards. It was so easy to set them straight; they didn't even have wands."

Grindelwald shook his head. Set them straight meant their bodies were probably rotting in the bottom of a lake or river somewhere. "What happened to the pretty thing? Never mind; you always liked pretty things until you tire of them."

He then told Boczek to go, only half-jealous of his second-in-hand's freedom. His mind pieced plans and several ways of torturing, killing and maiming Albus Dumbledore.

Gellert closed his eyes. _Albus...you traitor._

After he was done with that double-dealing Judas, he'd work on that slippery-as-a-flobberworm Harry Potter next.


	10. CHESS GAMES Part 1

**DISCLAIMER: You already know I don't own anything but if Tom Riddle becomes a reality, please promptly tell me of his whereabouts.**

Or if Christian Coulson is your neighbor, can we be friends and have a slumber party?

Pretty please? *packs bags and buys a plane ticket* *goes to your street and knocks on your neighbor's door instead*

 **CHAPTER 9:** CHESS GAMES PART 1

Tom was sure Hermione Granger was avoiding him. Was she serious?

He was the one who should be offended; he was the one who was forced to kiss her, for Merlin's sake!

She stopped speaking during their prefect meetings, only contributing something when directly asked and sat as far from him as possible. Alas, nobody could have it all; she still wouldn't stop raising her hands in classes, answering questions and earning house points. Annoying mudblood. Typical, Gryffindor mudblood.

And whenever they'd meet in the corridors, she would change direction or walk away like a werewolf was pursuing her.

Good riddance. He was tired of her bossy nature and the pitch of her voice and her lion's mane of a hair.

All that hair...it looked frizzy but Tom was pleasantly surprised to discover how smooth it was when he ran his fingers through the silky brown strands. He had also liked it when he tugged on those locks and made her moan.

 _Bollocks!_ He badly needed a shag or he'd start considering pulling anyone towards one of those mistletoes that still littered the air inside the castle. Leandra might be good but the novelty of seeing her go down on him was wearing off.

Add to that the fact that she was starting to cling to him like a leech.

Tom this and Tom that. As if he was interested in the senseless out-of-the-blue topics she'd sprang on him. If only he had the luxury of cursing people whenever he wanted to.

 _"Does this dress look good on me? My mum sent me this yesterday."_

He preferred her with nothing on.

 _"D'you have an owl? What's the name?"_

He didn't have one but she didn't have to know that.

 _"Where are you spending your Christmas break?"_

Now, that, he could consider. Where, indeed? It wasn't as if he had a lot of choices. It was just between Wool's and Hogwarts. Of course, he'd pick the lesser evil that served great food and offered better sleeping conditions.

Pathetic. This was how he, the Heir of Slytherin, had to live his life now. No thanks to the centuries, decades, years, perhaps even eons, of inbreeding that had produced deranged madmen who squandered whatever fortune they might have had.

If he was Salazar he'd denounce each and everyone of the Gaunts, starting with his — dare he say it — Uncle Morfin, with a _Crucio_ followed by an _Avada Kedrava._ But of course he'd wait for himself to be born before doing anything drastic.

No matter how much he hated muggles, they could be quite useful too. Such was his father. Tom Riddle Sr. might'd been a waste of his time but at least he was of different blood. He could understand why Merope, he wouldn't call her mother, took to him. They looked almost exactly like each other, both with high cheekbones and chiseled jawline. Their pale complexion was complimented by their slightly-curl black hair instead of washing it out. The only difference they had was that his father had grey eyes while he was born with icy blue eyes with silver streaks in them.

Morfin Gaunt murdered the man who turned Tom away when he showed up on his doorstep. He could've done it himself, could've taken his uncle's wand and killed them then have his lunatic relative shoulder all the blame.

He could've but he didn't; his father looked so much like him and Tom didn't want to see what he'd look like as a corpse, lifeless like the Diggory boy, whose eyes had lost its light and stared unblinkingly and unseeingly straight.

Tom never liked the topic of death. He didn't like death and didn't want to be in its clutches even in old age. He wanted to live forever.

No growing old, no wrinkles, no weak joints, forever young...that would be the ideal life.

He was walking aimlessly, lost in thought, until he was brought out of his musings by raised voices.

"I swear, I didn't do anything to your cauldron!" a high-pitched voice squealed in protest.

Tom paused and watched the scene unfold in front of him.

A small, scrawny boy, probably in his second year, struggled against the hold of a bigger, burlier boy. The bigger boy's hands clutched the front of the smaller one's uniform.

"Henderson saw you pointing your wand at it!" The bully, a Slytherin, sneered at his victim. "You think you're so smart, huh? Just because you're in Ravenclaw — "

"Just because Henderson said — "

"That's enough!" Tom's eyes flashed daggers at the two boys, especially towards the one who wore the colors of his house. "You!" He turned to his housemate. "What's your name?"

"Eiric...Eiric Gantman."

He rubbed his temples. Another Gantman in Slytherin; Steven was just all muscle, scowl and talk but he lacked the effortless cunning and grace worthy of Salazar. He had no doubt this younger brother did, too.

"That'd be twenty points for harrassing and hurting a fellow student."

"B-but he hexed my cauldron in Potions! It blew up and — "

He ignored Eric's outburst and turned to the other boy. "Name? And did you really hex his cauldron?"

"I'm Lucas. No, I didn't." The Ravenclaw boy straightened his robes and wiped the tears off his cheeks. "He just assumed I did. There could be a whole lot of suspects though. Everybody hates him. I imagine Imogen Bout would."

Tom ordered the younger Slytherin to go back to their dorm and the boy hastily obeyed. Whether he was scared of him or on his way to tell dear old Steven, he didn't care.

And what was the worst that Steven will do? Challenge him to a fist fight? Raise his wand like a Muggle would his sword?

"You should tell someone," Tom said to the boy who was actually a third year student.

Lucas looked up at him, jaw slack. "First, you deduct points from your housemate. Next, you're telling me to tell someone? Are you really a Slytherin?"

Tom turned his back on the boy and headed for his dorms.

That wasn't the end of that conversation, though. Whereas the resident know-it-all of Gryffindor avoided him like the plague, Lucas Rosier followed him like he was the cure for it.

"What d'you need?" He snapped on the fourth day. He had tried to avoid the youngster and tried his damnest to be polite but people were starting to talk.

 _"Sure, the boy seemed like a lovelorn faggot, but there must be a reason why he's hanging around Tom, right?" Steven Gantman wondered aloud when he passed by earlier. He was surrounded by his posse, which included his smirking younger brother. "Care to enlighten us, Tom?"_

 _He paused and looked them over his shoulder. "Oh, I don't know, Steven. He told me he was scared of you."_

 _"And why would that be?"_

 _"Because you propositioned him. A threesome with your brother? Quite kinky, isn't it?"_

He left to the tune of embarrassed, suppressed laughter. He knew the elder Gantman would be coming for him but he couldn't care less.

It was time to shake up the foundations of Slytherin house and show them whose at the apex. After all, didn't a king deserve to claim his rightful throne?

"I'm sorry. I just...just want to say thank you for saving me from Eiric. He's been leaving me alone for — "

"Well, that's good to know. If there's nothing else, good day." He quickly drawled as his eyes found a certain bushy-haired pestilence headed their way.

She was having a hard time balancing four thick tomes in her skinny arms.

For a girl so-called the brightest witch of her age, she'd forgotten she had magic. A simple _locomotor_ could've done the job. Typical muggleborns.

He opened his mouth, though, before his brain processed things. "D'you need help, Granger?"

Tom swore under his breath.

Hermione's head snapped up. A flush crept up from her neck and spread all-over her face. "H-help? No, thank you."

"Those books must be heavy," he said. Then held a hand out.

 _What the hell?_ Did he care she was having trouble carrying four heavy books? No. She could carry the whole library on her back like a turtle and he'd go on his merry way, laughing at her stupidity. That was what he was supposed to do.

Her eyes narrowed at him and then slipped over to the boy behind him. The crinkles on the corners of her eyes smoothed and he raised his eyebrow. What was she thinking?

She looked like she had just figured something out.

What was it? Was it that stupid rumor spread by Steven Gantman? Bloody Head Boy.

"No, I can manage. Thank you for offering, though." She squared her shoulders, tipped her chin up and passed by him. She grinned at Lucas but didn't look back at him, not even for a bit.

Tom gritted his teeth and stalked away. It wasn't as if Lucas was anything to stare at.

"Wait!" the kid called but he continued walking, knowing that the boy would follow. He slowly pulled his wand out of his robe pocket and his magic greedily run through his skin to it.

Sure enough, quick footsteps matched his leisure strides. The Slytherin walked left into a narrow hallway, going deeper into the castle where the rays of fading afternoon sun couldn't penetrate and the only light were the torches on the walls.

"Tom — "

A jet of purple light rushed through the air and hit its target. Lucas fell, writhing down as he curled into his stomach. The young Ravenclaw's mouth stretched wide open in a silent scream he would hear if he hadn't set a _silencio_ on the boy.

"Stop following me around!" he hissed, staring down at the body on the ground. "If you don't, I'll — "

A book hit him on the face; the spine caught the back of his head and Tom Riddle saw stars for a moment. Snarling, he turned to where it appeared from and tightened his grip on his pale, yew wand.

Hermione Granger glared at him. Three books floated around her, poised to attack.

"Stay out of this, Granger."

"No, Tom. I wouldn't." She stepped closer, clutching her wand, and the tomes followed her. "How long have you been doing this, hmm?"

He scoffed. "Doing what, huh, mudblood?" He faced her fully. Well, his skull hurt like hell and he was sure blood was clotting under his scalp. Blasted girl. He would make her pay. "Unlike some people, I don't go around throwing books. Wouldn't want Madame Pince banning you from the Hogwarts library, would you?"

She blushed and summoned the book she threw at him. The red of her face blended well with the yellow and orange light dancing on her form. The last time he saw her that flustered was under Peeves' mistletoe when, after telling her that she had to kiss him back, he'd opened his eyes and stared into hers as if to burn her alive.

He was only half-aware he was doing that right now; he was much more aware of Hermione Granger gulping. Much more aware of the rise and fall of her chest, much more interested in their shape.

A croak behind Tom snapped him out of it.

"I'm sorry," the voice said. "I just...just want to learn how to talk like that." Lucas Rosier slowly rose from his position, balancing his upper weight on his elbows. He looked up blearily at them.

"And I want to learn how to fight."

"Fight what? And who?" It was Hermione who asked. The boy dissolved in coughs and his elbows slipped on the stone floor. She was there in a flash and cradled the boy's head with her hands; she then ran a diagnostic spell over their younger schoolmate.

"The b-bullies."

Tom scoffed. The mudblood glared at him, before turning back to her patient.

"Yeah, you really should learn how to fight wannabe dark lords. Insecurity is what bullies are made of."

"So you're saying that I'm insecure?" Tom began; he rolled the words on his tongue and half-spat them out. "Why would I be insecure of a mud — "

"You poor thing. I never said it was about you. But now come to think of it..."

Her words hang in the air between and around them. Tom raised his wand; she did it on purpose, that he was one hundred percent certain of.

First, she avoided him. Now, she was baiting him? She had better learn not to play with a Slytherin.

But instead of standing up and facing him in an impromptu battle, the witch turned her back on him — literally turned her back on him! Oh, the insolence —

"I'll try to bring you to the infirmary. Think you can walk?"

Lucas nodded. "I think so."

"Let's try first. Try to sit, please." The boy did and Hermione Granger slipped an arm under his and her fingers grasped the fabric at his back. "Now, let's help you get up. Slowly pull your knees up, yes, there you go — "

"Oh, I see." Tom had been watching them silently and decided that he'd been quiet for far too long. "This is making you broody, isn't it? You're way too young to have children, you know. What is it with you Gryffindorks? All sunshiny and helpful and pathetically heroic. You should've merged with Hufflepuff."

Rosier immediately struggled out of the girl's hold. Tom smirked at the panic on the boy's flushed face. "I can do it on my own. I'm all good."

"Are you sure?" A brown bushy eyebrow rose at the Ravenclaw. "Or is it because of what the grumpy Slytherin said? Ignore him; I'm not being broody, okay? He just likes to think he's important and everything that comes out of his mouth is worth several million galleons. He's kinda in love with himself, you know. Poor, pathetic boy."

"Mudblood," Tom spat. His magic surged through his veins, arteries and blood stream. He couldn't see it but felt it well, like a current of electricity jumping and warping around his figure. Lucas shifted away from him and dragged himself a few inches away.

Hermione Granger stayed her ground, but he could see her shaking. Even her wand arm shook as she raised it.

"Kill me," she said.

The power building at the tip of his wand sputtered. "What?"

"I said 'kill me.' We know just how capable you are of doing it, Riddle."

His eyes narrowed. Tom gripped his wand tighter. "Don't goad me into doing just what I want to do, Gryffindor."

"Doing what you want is not the same as being capable of actually doing it. So, do it. That is, _if_ you _can_." She said the last part with a bit of a bite.

"I am certainly capable, Gryffindor." He stepped forward, raised his hand and then pointed it towards Lucas Rosier.

.

.

.

.

" _Imperio,_ " Tom Riddle whispered but she heard it. Her panicked gaze swung to their younger schoolmate, whose light blue eyes clouded.

"What did you do?!" she yelled but the Slytherin ignored her.

Lucas Rosier stood up, brushed something off his robes and walked off and out of the hallway. His eyes were still the same, dead but not quite.

"You know what to do, Rosier."

Hermione almost jumped from her perch on the floor as her wand flew out of her hand. She had almost forgotten about him, too; too busy watching the young Ravenclaw's departure.

"Give me back my wand, Riddle."

Her enemy turned it over and over in his palm, as if examining it from different angles. "Hmm, seems familiar. Is this vine?"

"Outstanding. Ten points to Slytherin. Now, give it back!"

"Tsk, you know I could just kill you right now. I haven't tried the _Avada_ yet but there's always a first time, right?" The Slytherin slipped her wand inside his robe pocket and Hermione gritted her teeth. "But I won't do that. Not yet. I'm not stupid, you know. I don't want to get expelled."

"And you think using the _Imperius_ isn't going to do exactly just that? My dear precocious Slytherin, it is one of the triumvirate so-called the Unforgivable Curs — "

"Blah, blah, blah. Textbook Hermione Granger and her boring textbook facts. D'you think I'd rise to the top of our classes and beat your pathetic asses if I didn't know a hoot about that? How typical of a mudblood."

She was about to open her mouth but she clamped her lips tighter. Based on their limited interaction over the years, which consist mostly of trading insults and a hex here and there, the Slytherin prefect liked to talk about his accomplishments. In front of their professors, he'd try to downplay it a bit to make them want to talk those up.

He was a Slytherin, after all. Manipulative and cunning.

And vain. He still had flaws, in spite of his pretense and magic. He was only human; he was prone to bragging and talking about his intelligence.

"Because you're a mudblood, let me spell it out for you: there are spells worse than the Unforgivables. Sure, I just used the _Imperius_ but that's just the base, the dough. And the icing on the cake?"

 _Bingo!_ Alarm bells rang at her nervous system but at least she was getting somewhere.

"Lucas Rosier is set to forget everything that happened until his altercation earlier with Eiric Gantman. He'd remember, sure, but not until he's halfway down towards death after jumping off the Ravenclaw tower, screaming _'Hermione Granger did it'!_ "

Her jaw dropped. The sod...h-he was going to blame it on her! On her! She'd be expelled, not him!

 _Calm down, Hermione. Calm down. Think. There's a way out of this._

"How pitiable," Riddle drawled. "But don't worry. You've got...hmm, let's see." He made a show of counting with his fingers. "Three weeks. You've avoided me for three weeks, let's see if you can also avoid getting expelled by the end of that."

 _See? You've got three weeks. You have enough time to tell someone_ — "Wait, what?" she asked. Did she hear him right? "What's it to you if I've been avoiding you, snake? We aren't exactly chums, are we?"

Her wand landed by her feet and she hastily picked it up. She straightened up and met the Slytherin prefect's expression. He looked bored and disgusted, but his eyes were burning with something she couldn't decipher.

"Three weeks, mudblood. You have three weeks from preventing poor little Lucas Rosier from breaking his bones and spilling his innards by the bottom of the Ravenclaw tower."

.

.

.

.

Hermione Granger stormed into her dorm, relieved that her dormmates weren't there yet, probably eating dinner at the Great Hall and screamed at the top of her lungs. The nerve of the turd, how incorrigible, how cunning —

Her cat jumped off her bed and hid under it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Crooks. Come here." She knelt at the foot of her four-poster and peeked under it. A pair of neon-like eyes glinted at her. "Come here. I promise I won't do it again."

It took her a bit more coaxing and several treats before the kneazle warily crept into her lap.

"I'm sorry," she said. She scratched Crookshanks behind the ears and earned a purr. "It's just that annoying Tom Riddle, he's just pure evil. He makes me so mad! I tried to hex him but he put a shield behind me and just sneered. The nerve of that foul — AAAARRRRGGGGHHH!"

Crookshanks batted at her lap.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Hermione sighed. "I need to control my temper. I need to think carefully and calmly." She concentrated on the aftermath of the Battle of Hogsmeade. She, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna ended up in the infirmary with a few bruises but they were safe. And Ron, although he loved chocolate frogs, broke his last piece in several pieces and passed it around.

The Gryffindor waved her wand in the air and yelled, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The ghostly otter bounded around her room and her pet kneazle took off after it. With a smile, her eyes followed the two frolick across bed covers and carpets.

After a few seconds, she stood up. Her stomach was complaining and there were two witches who could help her hatch a plan.

Besides, they'd be pissed off if she left them out of it.


End file.
